Ace Combat 7: Three Strikes
by MontyMarten
Summary: After being wrongfully accused of killing former president Harling, Naomi Foulke - callsign Trigger - is assigned to a penal unit where she manages to scrape up a reputation for herself. Determined to redeem herself and defend her country from the Eruseans, Trigger battles with herself as she's forced to become the very thing she's convinced she isn't. A killer. [AC7, Girl Trigger]
1. Prologue

Prologue: The War Begins

|…|…|…|

**Fort Grays Island, East of Usea.**  
_**May 15th, 2019.**_  
**1545hrs.**

|…|…|…|

The idea of an attack hadn't seemed possible earlier in the day. It was late spring, the sun was out for most of the day, and the weather was pretty much perfect. It was a slow day on the ground, even slower for the pilots considering they were left to entertain themselves with what few things they had. A few members of the esteemed Golem Squadron held a few measly rounds of poker along with two members of Gargoyle Squadron, mechanics checked out the planes and cleaned them up a bit, and everything was basically a normal Wednesday aside from the soldiers having nothing to do.

Watching the poker game from a short distance away, not caring too much to get involved with all the roughhousing that came with, the rookie pilot Lieutenant Naomi Foulke was taking note of the rules of the game and working to memorize them. Should she ever decide to play, she wanted to know how it all worked. The game paused for some banter and some light shoving on part of Golem 3 and Gargoyle 4, and she debated joining in to tease the two but only chuckled slightly.

Brownie, her roommate and the only other woman on base, did not look as amused by the interruption. "At this rate, we might finish the game by Christmas," Brownie stated dryly, holding her cards close to her to hide them from her wingman as he was nearly knocked into her after a playful shove. Brownie was Golem Squadron's number two, pretty close to her flight lead as well. Both of them possessed calm determination and a professional demeanor.

"Aww, c'mon, Brownie," Boggard (Golem 3) said as he finally quit laughing and put his head back into the game. Sort of. "Lighten up a little. Trigger's having more fun than you are and she isn't even in the game!"

Naomi smirked as her more familiar moniker was called, and she tilted her head forward slightly so it was no longer resting on the edge of the half open hangar door. She was known around the base — just like her comrades — by her call sign. The nickname was earned by the fact that she had a somewhat short temper and was an excellent shot — she wasn't afraid to pull the trigger, either. She knew when she had to, as well.

Her father had been a pilot in the Belkan War just a few years before she was born, and when she was ten he taught her how to defend herself and that included how to use a gun. She owed what little respect and reputation she had managed to earn for herself to him and all the hours of training she originally thought would serve no purpose in her life. It was no surprise that she joined the Air Defense Force, honestly.

"Brownie has a point, though." Naomi cocked her head to one side, pushing herself away from the hangar door and sitting on the only empty makeshift chair they had left. "You guys are taking forever to finish this game. You started it almost three hours ago, so I'm pretty sure it wasn't long after lunch." Boggard waved a hand at her dismissively as she leaned forward to get a closer look at the game.

Several minutes passed and it seemed to Naomi that they were close to finishing when the game was interrupted yet again, this time not by a scuffle or because someone was being called on their bluff and didn't like it, but because Golem's leader — Knocker or Captain Turner, depending on the day — was making his way towards them, his expression blank. Once he reached them, the questions among the group about what he was doing there ceased. "Sorry to interrupt the fun, but we've got to get to a briefing. Something's come up."

* * *

Upon arriving in the briefing room, Naomi was promptly greeted by darkness and confused chattering. The room's windows had been closed, blinds drawn, and the base commander and briefer were already standing by a display screen. A few empty seats remained, and some of the other pilots were standing towards the back of the room. With everyone talking over one another, it made the room seem mildly chaotic.

Naomi remained standing with most of the others while the rest of the seats were quickly filled. Was every single pilot on base there? Looking around, nobody seemed to be that concerned by the briefing. They didn't seem to care about how their free time was interrupted, either. Could she really blame them? It didn't seem urgent, but when the briefer finally stepped forward, his expression was grave.

"Is everyone here?" He scanned the room as if he was doing a mental head count. "Settle down," he ordered at last, and began to look down at the papers he had in his hand while the briefing screen lit up to show a map and fixed on the continent of Usea. The talking died down some, but not completely. "I said settle down!" the briefer repeated his order again, this time sternly enough to get everyone to fall silent. Once he was satisfied no one was making any noise, he went on, "You have all been instrumental in helping to maintain peace in Usea as members of the International Union Peacekeeping Force. Until today."

The map narrowed on the southern part of the continent, not that far from Fort Grays Island. "Earlier, our radar site informed us that a group of unidentified aircraft was approaching. Communications systems went down immediately after." Sure enough, the screen showed the dot where the radar site was, the unidentified craft approaching, and then a flash of red at the time communications went down. "We are led to conclude that they have attacked the site."

The briefer paused as if to let it all sink in. The map still showed red over the radar site, along with an image captured of the aircraft. The briefing went on. "Here's your mission," he said to them. "It's possible that the Usean ceasefire agreement has been broken for the first time in over a decade. As of today, the Fort Grays Air Base Squadron of the IUPF has been put on high alert. All members who have been ordered to sortie, fly there immediately. Find the unidentified craft, then use your weapons to round them up and force them to land. If the hostiles counterattack, then you will —"

A muffled boom cut him off as the room shook slightly. Everyone looked up and around and the tension in the room became increasingly thick. "What the hell was that?!" the briefer demanded, trying to keep his voice level, but it faltered on the last word.

"There's smoke!" Someone had poked his head outside the door and into the hallway. Suddenly, Naomi became aware of a burnt smell in the air and a rush of heat from.

Two soldiers pushed their way into the room slightly, out from the hallway. "We're under attack!" one of them shouted, his eyes wide with terror. "Numerous unidentified craft confirmed overhead!"

"What? How is that possible?!" Everyone had risen to their feet, frantic for a dismissal or an order. Right now, they only new something was wrong and they weren't doing anything about it. Naomi looked over at the briefer, who was still standing beside the screen, looking as nervous as everyone else, now.

"The tank farm to the north has been bombed!" the first soldier informed them.

"Many injured!" the second one added, and just like that, the pair took their leave to get to work on getting a handle on the situation.

The briefer began to shut everything down. "Scramble! All units, take off and eliminate the unidentified craft attacking the base!" There was a moment of hesitation, as if in the confusion they weren't entirely sure if it was real or not. Picking up on their hesitance, the briefer reassured them and also stated firmly, "This is not a drill!"

And just like that, everyone was off. At first, Naomi thought things would get better once they were outside and not crammed together inside, but outside it just got worse. Far worse than it was inside. The air raid siren was wailing out, acting as some sort of fear inducing motivator. Naomi felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck as she listened to the eery cry. Not too far away, smoke billowed and fire was crackling as crews worked to put them out. The effects of the bombs, no doubt.

Another explosion shook the area, however, unlike the first, the bomb it came from let out a deafening scream before it slammed into its intended target and shook the ground. The rumbling that filled the air after resembled thunder and drowned out most of the sounds in the area. Naomi, alongside the others, sprinted to the hangars where their planes were already being prepped for flight.

Golem Squadron went up first, being the largest. Their engines roared as they hurriedly took to the sky, and Naomi watched them before ducking into the hangar. All sounds from outside faded into the background and only the echoing footsteps and urgent voices filled her ears. "Trigger!" She jumped as her name was called, turning towards the source. It was Mage 1 — Clown as everyone called him — standing next to a pair of F-16s. Naomi jogged over to him and once she reached him he told her, "You're flyin' with me again, kiddo. Now hurry up and get goin'!"

He offered a somewhat reassuring smile. Out of all of the people she'd flown under, he remained her favorite. Clown was a suitable name for him — he was funny, naturally easygoing. All around, a nice guy. He was incredibly understanding and not to mention an excellent role model for pilots. It was amazing to watch him fly, even more so when he would try and teach maneuvers. Naomi still couldn't keep up with him, which was…pleasantly frustrating.

"Mage Squadron, aircraft preparations complete," a voice told the two of them over the radio once they had climbed into their planes and started them up. "Stand by at the front." The hangar doors buzzed open and their cockpits closed. Naomi saw Clown give her a thumbs up as he taxied onto the runway. He took off first, and before long, it was her turn.

Three other planes were waiting for the signal to go, and Naomi was given permission to move forward and take off. She had already performed the necessary checks, just to make sure everything was in working condition. A force of habit that came along with her tendency to be overly thorough, especially when it came to her planes. Mechanics around base acted offended that she insisted upon double checking everything, so she usually just let it be and ignored it until she could handle it herself.

The chatter on the radio and the whirring of her plane's engines and her own blood pumping in her ears were the only sounds she could hear. Everything else disappeared, and before long, it would just be her and the sky.

"Radar site still silent," someone informed them, speaking to no one in particular.

Someone else piped in. "Scramble! Get those birds in the sky! We're sitting ducks!"

Another, slightly more gruff and confused voice asked, "What's happening?" She wondered who would ask something with such an obvious answer. They were getting bombed, what else did you need to know?

"Bombers incoming! Don't know how many!"

Naomi tried to ignore it as she maneuvered the plane along the runway. It was a responsive plane, a personal favorite. On the tail was the Osean flag, and below a few letters and numbers, just above where it said OADF on it, was her own personal 'emblem'. It was a dog, yellow and white in color, holding a revolver in its mouth. She'd painted it on there herself and she'd gotten no complaints yet.

"Let's clear that runway. We don't got all day."

At least the guy giving most of the orders was calm. He didn't panic or anything, and an odd sense of comfort seemed to wash over Naomi. "Mage Squadron, head to runway. Golem Squadron takeoff. Linked to Sky Keeper. Hurry, Mage Squadron." Naomi squinted against the sunlight and watched the last of Golem Squadron takeoff. She was next. "Trigger, your callsign is Mage 2. Verify and read back."

"This is Trigger, callsign Mage 2. Roger that, control tower," she radioed back, trying to keep her voice calm and confident. Her breath was shaky and uneven, though.

A second or two passed and the control tower then said, "Mage 2, cleared for takeoff. Situation is tight." As she increased the throttle to drive the plane forward and pulled back on the side stick to pull it up into its climb, the tower decided to try and sound positive. "It's a hell of a welcoming party, but we have faith in you. Good luck."

"Control!" Knocker's voice suddenly snapped over the radio. "Do me a favor and get that bird in the air ASAP!"

"Hear that?" Control asked, and Naomi scoffed to herself. Hard not to, she thought. "Golem squadron and your wingman are airborne. Take off and form up with Mage 1." Naomi followed instructions, lifting into the air just as she was ordered, flying straight and towards where Clown was waiting. "Mage 2, altitude restriction is lifted. Good luck!"

The others were surprisingly far ahead, so she kept on the afterburners until she reached them. Below, the blue ocean seemed so peaceful, if not for some smoke rising out from a damaged ship in the distance. "The carrier…" Brownie murmured. "Whoah! Looks like the harbor's taken a lot of damage." Indeed, the bombing had — as expected — done a lot of damage to the area.

"Can't have anymore casualties." Knocker said cooly. "Time to stop the bullshit." Finally, Clown and Golem squadron came into view, and her radar was already aware of an enemy drawing closer. "Mage 2, form up with Mage 1!" Knocker ordered harshly, as if she had no intentions of following the ever repeated order. She didn't like them treating her as if she didn't know what she was doing, but she understood why. It would take a while before they trusted her on her own, and since this was her first real battle situation, it was more than expected. "All aircraft, let's do this. Golem Squadron, it's go time!"

"Roger that." Brownie replied promptly. The other members of the squadron replied back, acknowledging the command given to them just as Brownie had done.

A new voice came over the radio, "This is the AWACS Sky Keeper. Take down all unidentified bombers. They don't have many escorts." Naomi was already closing in on the nearest target as he continued talking, advising them caution with their enemies. "They hit our radars hard in the last attack. Expect the worse, and stay sharp."

"Wilco." Knocker said.

Naomi continued to fly towards the target, Mage 1 not too far away from her, but definitely not in front of her. "Trigger! I'm your wingman!" Clown said to her, as if she needed to be told. Mild annoyance began to creep up. "You're flying with me now. That's what it means to be in an element. You gotta look out for enemy bombers." Although the explanation was a little unnecessary, she appreciated the fact he took the time to teach her. Naomi attempted to keep the agitation under wraps and focus on the mission.

A faint beeping sound rang out. Finally, she was close enough for a missile lock. Naomi grinned to herself, some sort of airy, fluttering feeling in her stomach. She pressed the button and let them go, veering away just as they made contact with their intended target and the bomber exploded in midair. "I got it! That's one for me!" Naomi couldn't help but cheer.

"Enemy bomber confirmed down. Good job, Mage 2!" Sky Keeper praised.

"Not bad, Mage 2," Clown said to her. She did a half roll of victory. Straightening herself out again and flying towards where Golem Squadron was clustered, she became oddly aware that nothing else was showing up. That wasn't the last of them, she knew that. Naomi began a nearly frantic search, but it didn't seem like anyone else knew better. Clown ordered her, "Trigger, switch your radar. See if you can locate the enemy."

She did as she was told. Her range was expanded and at last she located the enemies. They were part of the bombers' fighter escort, a group of MiG-21s. "They're way overhead," Clown pointed out. Naomi could just picture a crooked smile on his face as he drawled, "Let's go introduce ourselves…" The planes, previously flying in a loose formation, suddenly broke apart. "Watch out for the support aircraft!" Clown warned.

Brownie and Knocker both worked together with one of the support planes that had drifted farthest from the others. Naomi switched to her special weapon and got a safe distance away while still able to get a lock. Once she had it, she fired once more and one plane disappeared in a fireball, while the other had managed to evade. "Enemy support eliminated. This should make the job easier," Sky Keeper commented. "Destroy the target." She got a lock on the other, switching back to her missiles and taking the final one out. "Target confirmed down. Looking good, Mage 2."

"Thanks," she replied, a little out of breath. Relief and adrenaline were such an unusual combination, she was a little uncertain what she should say. She turned her plane, looking to her radar for her next target. At last, they came into view and she maneuvered towards them, growing more confident the longer she was in the air. She hardly had time to feel scared.

"Mage 2, target's in range. Pair of bombers," Sky Keeper informed her.

"Uhh…" She looked around for Golem Squadron and Clown. They were trailing behind, much farther than she'd have liked. More than two bombers had suddenly popped up on radar. Naomi slowed the plane, letting off of the afterburners, all the fear she had ignored and thought had gone away crept up in her throat. "I'm…I'm not sure about this…Mage 1? Clown? Clown are you there?"

"Trigger, stay calm," Clown soothed, a slight edge to his voice. "You've got this." Taking a breath, she went back to the throttle, easing up on it, and flew at a faster pace again, towards the bombers as she waited to get a lock. Once she got it, she fired and the first bomber went down. "Excellent job, Trigger!" Clown praised. "You'll be a pro in no time."

"I know the kid's shown some promise, but let's remember, she's still barely gotten her feet wet," Knocker pointed out dryly as Naomi flew up and pitched down, twisting the plane somewhat at an odd angle to get behind the bombers for a better position. The squadron leader said nothing more, as if he was letting her unorthodox, inexperienced example of flight do the talking and prove his point.

Naomi was about to challenge him, asking him how many enemies he'd shot down since the mission started, but Clown spoke before she could, sounding relaxed and as if he hadn't heard anything Knocker had said. "Trigger, don't forget your special weapon."

"Yes sir…I was just about to switch to make it easier to take out these bastards..." Naomi replied, switching over shortly after Clown had reminded her of it. She had already used it to shoot down one of the escorts, but she still had a few left to use. She got behind it and the rapid beeping blasted in her ear to inform her of the lock, which Sky Keeper confirmed. She fired it and all four missiles found their designated targets. In the blink of an eye, they vanished from the air and began a fast decent to the ocean.

"That's it! It's great when it's simple," Clown chirped. Was he at all fazed by the attack and current battle?

"Enemy bomber down!" Sky Keeper was starting to sound more and more cheerful as the mission progressed. "Nice going, Mage 2."

Naomi grinned glancing back towards where her comrades had finished off another few bombers that she'd missed. "Not too shabby, Mage 2. But you've still got a long way to go, kid. I'll give you some pointers back at base, if you can make it in one piece." Knocker didn't sound too impressed, but that was the highest praise she could get from him, so she'd take it without a complaint. Personally, she was a little proud of herself for how she'd handled things thus far.

"Sky Keeper, this is Mage 1, over. Tally two bandits." Clown said as he and Naomi climbed to a higher altitude, where two planes were within visual range.

"Copy that," replied Sky Keeper. "It's a bomber and an escort."

"Well, what're we waiting for? Let's go get the sons of bitches!" Naomi called out, perhaps a little too excited to get in a 'fight' again. There wasn't much the bomber could do, though.

She pitched the plane down and went full throttle towards the two planes. "Whoah there, Trigger, settle down!" Clown said, his tone urgent and concerned, perhaps a little unsettled. He wasn't heading towards the two planes. Naomi was confused by his hesitance, but she was stuck with him. Not for long. If he wasn't going to take care of them, then she was. They couldn't just let them get away.

"Mage 2!" Knocker snapped over the radio as she broke formation and split towards the planes. "Maintain your element with Mage 1! Do not break off!" She eased back on the throttle to allow for Clown to catch up as he finally decided to take action. As they approached the two planes, Knocker said to Clown, "Mage 1, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid!"

"Wilco."

"I've almost got a lock…aaaand…" Naomi began to think aloud, mostly to herself than to anyone else. Beep, beep, beep! "Mage 2, Fox 2!" Another bomber went down, its debris cascading to the ground or ocean, wherever it might land. Golem Squadron formed up alongside Mage as the bomber crashed down, Knocker ordered Brownie to stay in formation and watch his six as he took down the escort. Naomi was still grinning wildly, "Alright, we're almost done, right?"

Sky Keeper ruined the moment almost instantly. "Golem, Mage. Two new enemy groups."

Yet another brand new voice joined in on the radio chatter and everyone stopped talking to listen properly. "This is HQ," the voice explained. "Attention, all combat groups. Are there any drones? Verify."

Naomi held back a surprised snort of disbelief. When did drones become an issue? Knocker bitterly responded, "Drones? Are you kidding me right now? Jesus! This is the kinda shit that really chaps my ass!" He and the rest of Golem turned to face the newly approaching enemy, and Clown and Naomi followed suit.

Clown sighed out of frustration, "UAVs? I can't tell them apart…"

The squadrons both closed in on the enemy. Another switch to special weapons for Naomi. Locked on. Fired. One got away. "Damn, these guys are pretty good," she cursed herself for missing, quickly turning to pursue the escaping craft. She switched back to regular missiles and got a lock on them once again, firing without missing a heartbeat. The plane was not as lucky that time and the missile struck it and sent it down with its comrades.

As Naomi checked her radar and then turned towards another enemy bomber, she glanced to her left and saw Brownie and Boggard chasing down another escort. They had it handled, so she moved in to take out the bomber. Sky Keeper informed her that she was almost out of special weapons, so she continued using normal missiles. The bomber went down, unable to evade like the escorts were.

"Mage 2's bandit confirmed down." Brownie said.

"They can burn with their whole payload." Footpad snarled.

"Hesitating for a split second could be the difference between life and death," Knocker reminded them all. "Stay sharp, think fast."

Naomi smirked, looking around for the rest of the enemies and ultimately her next target. "With all do respect, you don't need to tell me that, sir," she told him, as cheerful as could be. "I've already figured it out for myself. Pretty easy to learn, if you ask me." The rest of the bombers and their escorts came into view, still attempting their attack in spite of having Golem Squadron glued to their tail, firing a little haphazardly.

"Don't get too cocky, Trigger," Clown advised her, a hint of amusement in his tone. "You've still got a ways to go." His plane shot passed her, taking out the bomber she had in her sights before she could react. Naomi abruptly turned to dodge the explosion. Clown chuckled, "Like I said. Be sure to focus. That target coulda just as easily been you!"

HQ suddenly shouted at the two squadrons and possibly to the personnel on the ground, "Don't let them destroy the harbor!" Hadn't they kept the bombers from reaching that far? Most of them, anyways. Naomi used the gun to take out one that she got close to, then drifted up and around it. "Where the hell are our fighters?! The harbor's under heavy fire!"

"I thought by cutting them off here, we kept them from reaching the base. That was how it was supposed to work, right?" Naomi asked, then went silent and pushed the base out of her mind as she rolled to keep an enemy escort within range. She hit him with the gun, then fired a missile to finish him off. Straightening back out, she flew towards Golem Squadron, where Clown was already engaged with one of the other escorts. She then realized how close they were to the base, which had previously been covered by the clouds. That's what radar is for.

Switching over to her special weapons, she figured she'd go ahead and use the last of them. Once four planes came within range, she fired and down they went. Three bombers and an escort. Now that those were gone, she had to rely on the rest of her missiles and her gun, which in spite of her nickname, she was still figuring out how to use with skill. Accurate enough to hit the target? Yes. Confident enough to get that close to a plane moving just as fast as she was and that was more maneuverable and likely to hit her? No.

It was a pathetic hangup, she knew that just as much as the next person, but she trusted guided missiles more than she did her own aim and shaking finger. Not to mention she had to fire and control the plane with the same hand. Not an easy feat, but she'd learn soon enough. That was always how she thought of it. Everyone starts somewhere, right?

The bomber was hit by one missile, so she went ahead and managed to finish it off with the gun. Naomi quickly moved to the next bomber and locked on, fired, and it was down. "One remaining!" Sky Keeper shouted and she veered towards the final escort and took it down, then moving in on the last bomber.

"Mage 2, keep your focus. You got this." Knocker said to her as he and the others hung back to let her handle it. Clown flew close by in case she needed help, but how hard could one bomber be? She flew in close and fired.

"Missile launched!" Sky Keeper announced. As Naomi flew past the bomber, it burst into nothing but a ball of fire and smoke and some fragments. The base was safe, now. Proudly, Sky Keeper said, "To Golem and Mage. Job well done. All bombers are down. Our radar shows no signs of bandits. You're in the clear."

Naomi formed up with Clown. "Good going, Mage 2!" Clown praised her. He was pretty good about 'positive reinforcement', especially for some tough old pilot in the military. Naomi wasn't complaining about it, though. "Flight commander, looks like she's got what it takes!"

"Let's slow down," Knocker said, his annoyance not hard to pick up on. "It's just one sortie. Don't try to be a hero. I want you to make it back in one piece, you hear?"

"Yeah, I gotta side with the bossman on this," Brownie added.

"Alright, whatever you two say," Naomi replied, not at all hurt by their lack of praise. They were concerned it was going to go to her head and she'd endanger herself and the rest of them — hell, she'd be worried if they weren't concerned about that. Even she was worried that she'd get too eager, already having done it that day. But it had benefited the mission, so what was the problem there?

"Golem Squadron, this is HQ. Did you confirm any drones?" HQ sounded much calmer now, his voice sounding a little weak, as if he was tired.

Knocker asked the question Naomi and likely everyone else was thinking. "What's the deal with all the drones?"

No response at first, then HQ came on again, harsher and only addressing one member of the squadron, "Golem 1, return to base and report for debriefing." Was Knocker in trouble for asking a simple question? Without a word, Knocker led the way back to base for landing.

* * *

The rest of them got their own debriefing while Knocker went off to speak with the base commander. According to the briefer, one of their aircraft carriers, the Albatross, had been sunk. The attackers had been Erusean, and IUN-PKF bases all over the continent had been targeted in the same manner as their base had been. The briefer explained to them that their actions may have improved the chances of winning the war that had been started that day. "You have our thanks," he said, and with that, they were dismissed.

Everyone started towards the mess hall for dinner, taking in the damage done to the building. Several lights were flickering and buzzing obnoxiously as they were repaired, and some walls had been charred by fire or partially blown up. The mess hall was still standing, though, the lights dimmed slightly to conserve their power until they got everything in working order again.

"You were amazing, Trigger," Footpad complimented her as they all took their trays of soggy mashed potatoes and dried out meat to the nearest open table. It wasn't a gourmet meal, but it was actually one of the better days. Surprisingly, Naomi had eaten worse quality meals than this back in Osea. "Man, you barely hesitated! I had a hard time keeping up with you. Any idea how many you shot down?"

"No, I didn't keep track of it," Naomi admitted, feeling overwhelmed by all the gushing everyone was doing. "Sorry, Footpad. I didn't think I was supposed to. I mean, do you really think it should turn into a competition?"

"Yes." Footpad and Boggard both answered at the same time. Then Boggard pointed out, "It's more fun that way. Besides, when did you ever turn down a competition, Trigger?"

Naomi crossed her arms. "Alright then. Next sortie, you're on, boys!" Brownie, who'd been fairly quiet the whole time, rolled her eyes at this. Naomi didn't seem concerned by the idea of another mission at the time. After all, if the Eruseans fought how they had today, it would all be a piece of cake for everyone, right?

* * *

Author's Note:_ My first Ace Combat fan fiction is officially a go. I hadn't intended to do a novelization until I actually played it, but I made the mistake of watching the playthroughs of the game done by someone on YouTube and I decided to do my own adaptation of it. Yes, Trigger is a girl. Because I can and I figured I'd make a little change to the original storyline. For once, I've actually got everything planned out from start to finish. Huh. Imagine that. Then again, I actually have a base to go off of._

_Here's a little character sheet for Naomi/Trigger just so everyone knows 'who' she is. Kind of._

**Name: **Naomi Foulke  
**Age: **21 (as of December 2018)  
**Sex:** Female  
**Height: **5''7  
**Weight:** 124 lbs  
**Hair:** Light brown  
**Eyes:** Brown

_And that's how it would look/read on her OADF file, using a similar format as the OADF character 'files' from AC5. So anyways, here's the prologue to Three Strikes. Please read and review, constructive criticism is welcome, just please be polite._

_Thanks for reading, and I hope ya'll enjoy this chaotic journey I've started!_


	2. Eastern Wind

Chapter One: Eastern Wind

|…|…|…|

**Fort Grays Island, East of Usea**  
_**May 16th, 2019.**_  
**0900hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Life returned to normal practically overnight, with the exception that they were at war with Erusea. The base still showed the effects of the previous afternoon's bombing, but lights and electrical systems were back in working order and the damaged hangars and buildings were getting the necessary repairs. Thankfully, no casualties and everyone was safe and sound, if not just a little scraped and bruised. They got started on maintenance without any complaints and while everyone enjoyed a day off, the tension was high among the staff.

HQ was busy planning out their next move, so the pilots were left on the ground once again with the base still on high alert in case the Eruseans tried again. In the distance, the sun was starting to climb higher in the sky, raising the temperature ever so slightly. Birds called out and took to the sky, out towards the water as if they were all going to relax on the little strip of sand one could hardly consider a beach.

Inside, the television in the mess hall had remained on the OBC since yesterday, and all it did was repeat what they'd already been hearing. Erusea declared war, launched drones, targeted naval ports, damaged aircraft carriers, etcetera, etcetera. Naomi noticed that they mentioned Harling more than they had before. They kept talking about his possible whereabouts and whether or not he was still alive, having been touring the Space Elevator at the time it was taken by Erusean forces.

Perhaps, being an Osean citizen, she should feel a bit more concern for the former president, but she was too lazy when it came to politics to really know a lot about the guy. That, and she was too young to care too much about his policies and actions during his term. After all, she was thirteen in the last war and had far more important things to do than worry about presidents. She knew that her older sister, a medic who served on the first Kestrel, respected the guy a hell of a lot. What was the big deal, though?

"I hate to break it to you, but the more you stab at it and the less you eat, the worse it's gonna to taste." Brownie's voice brought her back into reality and Naomi watched her roommate take a seat beside her with a bowl of cereal. A quicker option as opposed to Naomi's dried out omelet, but likely tasted just as strange. The food was getting better the longer they were on the base, but the right consistency of not too dry and not too wet was something that the cook couldn't get right. Brownie didn't seem at all bothered by the likely dated milk and stale cereal, but she never complained about things like that.

"Ahh, but you see, the more I stab at it, the less resemblance it has to a brick and the more edible it becomes," Naomi replied, poking the omelet harder with her fork for emphasis. Her goal hadn't been to actually break it up, it was more of just fidgeting with something while getting lost in thought. By now it was probably cold, and a simple sample of her meal would confirm this. Easier said than done. She continued to stab at it to put off having to actually eat. "What took you so long? I can't imagine there's much of a line."

Brownie stirred the contents of her bowl, trying to get the cereal as soft as possible without getting it too soggy. "Knocker wanted to have a chat with me, that's all," she answered with a shrug, finally getting a spoonful of cereal.

Naomi kept at her omelet, trying to cut it into more exact pieces. "I hear he's pissed about getting a separate debriefing from HQ," Naomi said, glancing across the room where she spotted Knocker speaking with Boggard. "Apparently they explained the 'deal with the drones' and then chewed his ass out for asking so many questions. Clown told me they pulled the 'follow orders more, question less' card on him."

"That's only partly true," Brownie corrected, swallowing her food quickly so she could talk. "They pulled that card on him and explained the drone problem and everything, but he doesn't seem too mad about it. Of course, he probably let off some steam by talking to Clown since he likes to be at least _somewhat_ level headed when talking to us."

"Yeah…I guess he just wants to be the glue that holds everyone together…" She began to slouch a little in her seat as the conversation started to die down. Naomi and Brownie usually got along pretty well, but they had a lot of differences when it came to interests and hobbies, so a lot of conversation was usually talking about their squadron, funny stuff so and so did, who got yelled at, etcetera. It was all they had in common, really.

Putting their differences aside to get along and be what one might consider 'friends' wasn't too hard, but debates weren't uncommon if the topic ever shifted into interests and preferences and hobbies. For every one similarity they managed to find at least six differences came with it. Similarities? The Air Force was their passion early on, they both enjoyed the arts, and doing stuff outside was the best. Differences? Too many. For example, Brownie preferred movies and Naomi liked books; Brownie liked dogs and Naomi liked both but preferred cats; Brownie was an early bird and Naomi was a night owl. It went on and on.

That wasn't to say they didn't make an effort to get along. "Boggard and Footpad are getting some of the others together for another poker game today, if you're interested," Brownie offered after breakfast. Naomi opened her mouth to decline the invitation, but Brownie tried to get her to agree regardless. "Oh, c'mon. Don't use the excuse that you don't know how the game works. You watched us play so I know you know how at this point."

Naomi smiled and followed Brownie out. "Fine. But I'm not sitting next to Boggard and he can't deal, either. First game ya'll played, he cheated like there was no tomorrow."

"Fair enough."

* * *

_**May 17th, 2019.**_  
**0650hrs.**

HQ had told them the previous evening that they were all to report for a briefing at 0700, having finally figured out what their next move was. The full day of relaxation, if you could call it that, had softened most of the pilots to the point where they groaned and moped about all through dinner that night. Regardless, they were all up bright and early to prepare for the day, and on time as well.

Naomi, Brownie, and a pilot they called Faun stepped into the briefing room together. Faun was always sort of just 'there' and liked to stay in the background for the most part. He was lanky and always well-groomed, and had a natural charm about him. Everyone seemed to trust him and he was probably one of the saner, experienced pilots on the base, aside from Knocker.

"Room's packed again," Faun observed as he took an empty seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, moving sluggishly as if he was still half-asleep. Brownie and Naomi joined him, Naomi relaxing in almost the same manner. Brownie was the only one of the three of them that was actually completely awake and ready to go whenever. Faun took some persuasion and a couple of cups of coffee, whereas Naomi could wake up completely by way of extremely cold water. Caffeine and Naomi didn't mix.

Faun leaned forward after a few minutes on the rather uncomfortable chair after he grew tired awkward position he was in. "Briefer isn't even here, yet," he pointed out. "Must've fallen back asleep, eh?" Naomi lifted her head and surveyed the room. Faun was right. No briefer, no base commander. Knocker wasn't there, either. "Can't believe we had to get our asses out of bed this early to be on time and the briefing probably won't start for another thirty minutes…"

"They'll be here soon enough." Brownie shrugged, disinterested with any complaints her comrades had. As if on cue, the briefer entered the room, followed closely by Knocker, who rushed over to sit up front. She nodded and spoke in a superior sort of way, "You see? Just a matter of patience."

The briefer took his place, clearing his throat. "Everyone quiet down," he ordered, and the hushed conversations quickly faded out. Surveying the room as he always did, making sure he had everyone's full attention as the briefing screen lit up, he cleared his throat. "Shall we get this started, then? Erusea has made a declaration to the Osean Federation and all countries on the Usean continent stationing the IUN Peacekeeping Force that we are now at war."

"No shit Sherlock…" Naomi muttered scornfully, earning a strained laugh that could be mistaken easily for a cough from Brownie. Faun's lips curled into a half-smirk, but he kept his eyes straight ahead and appeared to be paying close attention, same as Brownie.

"Right after the declaration was made, surprise attacks began around the continent that have inflicted major damage to our armed forces," he went on, either pretending to not have heard Naomi's remark or having genuinely not heard it. "Forces aligned with Erusea are currently appearing throughout Usea. The combination of these forces has overwhelmed the majority of the continent, and they are now encroaching on us in the east."

The screen that displayed the map previously had Erusea colored red to stand out among the normal blue, and the red then expanded across the continent to show the reach of the Erusean forces and their allies. Most of the continent was engulfed by red, only the far most southeastern side still appearing in blue. The map then shifted, zooming in towards Erusea to a specific location off the coast of the country.

"Additionally, the multi-national space elevator has been seized by the Erusean military." The map now displayed photos taken of the space elevator off in the upper right hand corner. It looked so crisp and clean, hard to believe a military presence had been taken up on it, even if these photos were taken prior. It just seemed too…important. Like it should be invincible. The briefer explained, "After the previous war, the space elevator became both a symbol of peace and a valuable asset in the fight against growing energy concerns. Whoever has control over it will have enormous influence over the entire continent."

"Well, that explains why one of their first moves was to take it then," Naomi whispered to Brownie, leaning towards her friend so she could hear her. "They have control over the space elevator, they gain basically a shit-ton of power, as such gaining respect, followed by the likelihood of more allies, thereby raising their chances of winning the war. So it sounds like our next move — surely — is to try and take it back, right?"

The briefer went on. "We can not turn a blind eye to this critical situation." The map quickly zoomed from the elevator and onto Fort Grays Island. "The Fort Grays Air Base Squadron has been entered into the order of battle to reclaim the elevator as an advance element." Naomi, having been a little too pleased with herself, realized then that they wouldn't be taking care of the space elevator that day. "First, you will attack all hostiles coming in the east of Scofield Plateau to stop any interference with the allied ground troops."

"Dammit…" Naomi cursed under her breath. "I hate ground targets…they were hell to deal with in training…"

"The enemy has deployed several vehicles equipped with anti-air radar along the roads. You are to _destroy them_." The tension in his tone increased, as if he was making it clear that they weren't to hold back. A clear, absolute, no loopholes order. They were just some ground targets, though. No big deal, right? "They should not pose much of a threat. However, there is a high likelihood that the attack will draw more enemy air support. If that happens, fight them off swiftly and establish air superiority. Dismissed."

"Step one begins, then," Naomi said as she and the others got up from their seats. "As soon as we're able to reclaim the elevator, we've as good as won the war. At least, that's how he makes it out to seem."

Faun nodded thoughtfully. "Possibly. But what about Harling? It's possible he's still there, right? If we reclaim the elevator and he's alive, then that might bring some hope to Osea."

"The chances of him being alive and being at the elevator are slim to none, Faun," Brownie pointed out. "He either got out — alive and well but still hiding from Erusean troops in the area, even then the idea he's still alive is questionable at best — or he died when the elevator was taken. There doesn't seem to be much in between." Brownie, ever the realist, didn't look at all disheartened. It's possible she was, but she didn't show it if she was.

Naomi let out a sigh as they continued on their way to the hangar. "I hope you're wrong, Brownie," she said to her. "I may not be some massive Harling fan, but there's no denying what getting him back would do for moral both among the troops and the civilians back in Osea. If he's dead, then we'll have lost more than one symbol of hope and peace for Osea."

"Let's just keep going how they're sending us out — one step at a time — focusing on one mission at a time.," Faun suggested. "And we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Besides, it's out of our hands regardless of what happens. Well, at least for now, anyways."

* * *

**Scofields Plateau, Southeastern Usea.**_**  
May 17th, 2019.**_  
**1000hrs.**

"Yo, Trigger!" Boggard's voice came over the radio, abrupt but not harsh. He'd been fairly quiet the whole flight to the plateau, but now he seemed ready to talk. "Don't forget to keep count out there. Whoever has the most kills by the end of the mission…uhh…well, I'll think of a prize or something."

"But if I have no idea what the prize will be, then why should I humor you?" Naomi asked him, but no response came. Sighing, she decided, "Alright, how about this: If _I_ win, then you'll finally help me practice some self-defense stuff and whatnot. In other words, you have to spar with me. And if _you_ win, then I'll give you back the money I won off of you in poker yesterday. Sound like a good deal?"

There was a moment of silence, as if he was considering the options. "Eh, what's the worse that could happen," he replied coolly. "It's a deal. May the best pilot win."

"Settle down, you two," Sky Keeper ordered them. "You're coming within range of the enemy." They flew a little closer, Naomi putting on the afterburners on the F-16 she was flying to get closer to where the targets were supposed to be. "Current target is on rails, but there're still military vehicles and anti-air weaponry. Destroy the target, but HQ has made it clear that no harm should come to civilians and no damage is to be done to public facilities."

"But, uh…any aircraft shot down could land in civilian territory," Brownie pointed out. She was right, and the order was going to be difficult to follow. None of them had control over where their enemies crashed, and it seemed that the Osean military was trying to outdo Erusea, prove that they could avoid harming civilians with actual pilots instead of computers and programming.

"No point arguing," Knocker told them. "That's how war is these days."

Sky Keeper ignored their chatter. "Do you have visual on the anti-air radar vehicles? They should be close."

"Yup." Clown replied simply as they all closed in and broke formation. Naomi angled the plane towards the ground, Boggard flying close on her six in a race to reach the target first. Naomi got a lock, she fired and pulled out of the dive as the vehicle blew up, grinning to herself as she moved onto the next targets. Three of them, practically lined up. One by one, she took them out, then on her way to the next and just as she got a lock, Boggard stole the kill from her.

"That's one for me, Trigger," Boggard announced, flying up beside her and then breaking off as she dove towards another set of targets.

Clown sighed as the vehicles were destroyed. "It's poppin' off now, Trigger. The war has officially begun."

"Doesn't seem too difficult or like they're putting up much of a fight, honestly," Naomi replied, beginning to get cocky. Boggard took out another vehicle and was catching up, but things seemed to be moving at a steady pace. "Too simple."

"Trigger, calm down," Knocker snapped at her. "You need to stay focused and quit getting overconfident. Ground targets might as well be target practice. Now stop getting so trigger happy and ease off a little on the afterburners before you miss your target. Accuracy is more important than speed." Sighing, she eased back after Knocker's little, slowing down a little while still taking out the targets nearest to her.

"Hey, Boggard, what's your score so far?" Footpad asked out of the blue, having been quiet for some time now. "Trigger's up to eight, I think."

"Seven, actually," Naomi corrected, gunning down a radar vehicle and taking out an AA gun along with it.

Boggard replied, "I've got four so far. I'm catching up, Trigger!"

"Focus on the mission!" Knocker raised his voice up enough so that it would get their attention and get his point across. "Worry about your competition _after_ we get done and get out of here." And silence fell among the pilots, taken aback by Knocker's order. That was a first, even for him. Both he and Clown seemed on edge, uncomfortable with being in enemy territory, especially with far less experienced pilots. They didn't want anyone to slip up, if Naomi read the situation and understood their actions correctly.

The mission continued, one by one, they took down the radar vehicles, Sky Keeper informing them of how many were left. There weren't many, and they'd all be gone soon enough. There seemed to be nothing to it. Perhaps Knocker was right and it _was_ just a more extreme target practice. "Enemy interceptors inbound," Sky Keeper informed them as they got deeper into the enemy's territory. "Prepare to engage in thirty seconds."

"Wilco, here they come," Knocker replied.

"Take them down," Clown ordered. Naomi remained focused on the remaining ground targets whereas Golem Squadron and Clown focused on the enemies right in front of them in the air. Daring to glance up and out into the sky above her, she saw four missiles streaking towards the enemy fighters. All of them hit their targets, and just like that, the planes were down.

Knocker came on again, sounding much calmer than before, "Okay, recruits. Pay attention to who's on what side. The newest IFF is connected to our entire force via satellites. It's reliable, so trust your radars."

Naomi took out the last of the vehicles, then pulled up, checking the radar for the next target. "That was the last radar vehicle! Great work!" Sky Keeper praised them. A pause, and then Sky Keeper told them, "Radar vehicles destroyed but the interceptor shows no sign of retreating. Take it out. Continue with the mission and crush as many as you can." Naomi pulled her plane away from the ground and towards the enemy planes behind her. She got a lock and fired, hitting the unsuspecting fighter that had been focused on Clown rather than on her.

The others continued to engage the enemies in the air, so she went back to the ground targets, getting tired of radar warnings blaring in her ear as the AA guns fired at her. The battle was starting to pick up as the Eruseans likely became more aware and active, getting off of their asses to do something. Naomi veered away from the gas tanks she'd just took out and towards the control tower. If she took that out, it would likely help them out some. The enemy pilots would no longer be receiving clear instruction, especially those on the verge of taking off. No other option presented itself, so as she flew close enough, Naomi fired two missiles at it and then took out a nearby radar tower with her gun before circling back around to take care of the rest of the ground targets in the area.

"Golem 1! Enemy will crash into residential area!" Brownie announced to Knocker, her voice practically dripping with concern in spite of her trying to maintain a mature, official tone.

"Just worry about staying alive for now." Knocker told her casually, not seeming at all concerned by HQ's order of 'no harm is to come to civilians'. It was inevitable. "Keep your mind focused." Naomi joined the others in the fray up in the air, climbing up until she was near Clown, trying to get a lock on the Erusean MiG that was trying to shoot down Clown while he chased after another plane. Eventually, it pulled away from Clown and Naomi followed it, eventually getting a lock, she fired it and veered in another direction, towards the remaining enemies.

"Wait, so you want us to take down the enemy without damaging any public facilities?" Clown asked out of nowhere, having finally taken down the plane he was chasing after. Exasperated and without a reply, he added, "That's gonna be a circus."

"Well…your name is Clown, so maybe you'll be able to manage it." It was a really bad joke, and judging by the sigh she received from Clown as a response, he thought so too. Naomi made a dive for the enemy base to take out yet another AA gun, followed by a watch tower. As she pulled up, something on the ground caught her eye. "Mage 2 to Mage 1 and Golem 1…something weird's happening on the ground…I'm coming back your way, this doesn't look good."

Blurred because of distance, she could just barely make out a row of containers, like the ones that OBC had showed footage of launching the drones, slowly opening up it would seem. That definitely was not a good sign. Naomi turned away from the base and put on the afterburners, returning to formation with the others as they all tried to process what was going on. Within a few seconds, several new blips appeared on the radar. "What happened?" Knocker demanded as they approached the new formation. "Status report!"

"Multiple bogeys on radar! They're close!" Sky Keeper replied.

"Wait…they're being launched." Clown said as more joined them.

"You're cleared to engage!" Sky Keeper told them urgently. "They're probably hostile." Naomi sighed, upset not only that they couldn't get a break, but also that everyone seemed to find it perfectly acceptable to point out the obvious. She'd grown used to it, and Sky Keeper was nice enough that she didn't openly complain about it. The group quickly closed on the drones, however, as soon as they fired upon getting a lock, the bogeys dodged out of the way.

"Clown, these things are ridiculous!" Naomi shouted, growing frustrated as every time she fired they dodged out of the way. Being overconfident really would come back around on you, no wonder her mother and pretty much everyone else she knew always warned her of it. No wonder Knocker had gotten mad earlier.

"Judgin' by the way they look and move, they've gotta be drones!" Clown said as he barely managed to stick to one's tail.

"Well spotted, Clown," Knocker answered. "No doubt about it, we're definitely dealing with UAVs. But that doesn't change a thing. Just think of them as somewhat clever decoys. Take them all down!" Easy for him to say, he was the only one that had managed to shoot one down so far. Naomi was having difficulty keeping a lock on one. Knocker spoke again, "These drones have great agility. All aircraft, you know what high-G turns are, right? Use 'em."

Naomi put this to practice, getting a lock on one but turning quickly so she was tilted to the side and aimed ahead of the drone. She pressed down on fire and the drone flew directly into the missile, blowing up on impact with it and falling into the farmland below them. "HQ, this is Golem 1. Bandits confirmed as UAVs," Knocker radioed in to get HQ up to date with the current situation. Naomi and the others continued to pursue the drones. "Repeat. Bandits are drones."

"Golem 1, that doesn't matter!" HQ responded. "Destroy all enemy fighters and get out!" Easier said than done. For every one they destroyed, it felt like more appeared, but according to the radar they were slowly disappearing. Brownie and Knocker flow close to one another, while Footpad and Boggard flew close by, in between Clown and Naomi. Boggard continued to chase down targets near Naomi, even attempting to steal some of her kills.

"It doesn't matter?" Knocker echoed, sounding perplexed. Naomi did find it a bit odd that, after HQ made such a big deal about knowing whether or not there were any drones from the first fight, they'd say it doesn't matter.

"He's saying, 'The war can change in an instant. Get over it.'" Clown said in a bitter tone, but Naomi didn't know if the bitterness was directed at HQ or Knocker or both. HQ seemed the most logical choice of the three, especially considering Knocker was in charge _and_ he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Yeah, I just wish they'd give us a bit more warning." Knocker grumbled.

Naomi flew up, alongside Clown, and together they pursued the same drone. Simultaneously getting a lock and firing, they both took it down. "Enemy UAV confirmed destroyed. Hell yeah." The way he was talking, you could practically see the smile on his face.

"Golem Squadron, you're not going to let Mage get all the glory, are ya?" Knocker asked his own wingman. A couple of confident 'no's and 'this one's mine!' sounded off in response as the two squadrons began a friendly competition to get the last of the drones out of the sky. Naomi and Clown were getting the most of the enemies, barely leaving much for Golem.

"Mage 2 has taken down an enemy!" Brownie announced. "How many is that now?"

"I forgot, honestly," Boggard replied. "But I think she's winning."

"Just two more!" Clown said.

Naomi maneuvered carefully after one of the drones that had strayed away from its companion and into the clouds. Every time she got a lock, it would dart out of the way or she'd lose it and it would manage to get out of sight. She remembered that Knocker had told her on the first day she arrived and they went on some sort of 'breaking in' flight or something like that, and something she'd learned in training. The clouds didn't only provide poor visibility, but they could mess with the HUD and radar. Every time she fired, she seemed to lose track of it on radar, as such losing the lock she had on it.

After what felt like ages, she chased it out of the clouds and got a clear, good view and lock on it. _Beep! Beep! Beep!_ Naomi fired and the frustrating little devil was history. "One to go," Sky Keeper informed them. "Let's get through this without any casualties." The last drone was being pursued by Golem Squadron and Clown, and Naomi was almost on top of it, in gun range. She pulled the trigger and kept within range. After hitting it enough to slow it down, she fired a missile and put it out of its misery.

"Nice kill, Trigger!" Brownie praised her. "Enemy aircraft confirmed down." Naomi smiled to herself and turned around to head back towards the others.

"The skies are clear. Nice work everyone." Sky Keeper said to them. "Mission complete. RTB."

"No casualties," Knocker pointed out. "We couldn't have done any better. Returning to base."

Naomi was satisfied with going back and pleased that none of them had been shot down, but Brownie didn't seem convinced or satisfied with that. "I don't know," she said uncertainly. "Maybe the bandits we took down caused civilian casualties." Naomi didn't really think about that, and honestly there was no way they'd know unless Osea or Erusea reported it on the news.

"No point arguin'. That's how war is these days." Clown replied matter-of-factly.

Knocker added, "You shoot, someone gets killed. The guys in charge take care of the rest." There was no room left for discussion, and a silence fell among them all as they made their way back home.

* * *

**Fort Grays Island, East of Usea.**  
_**May 18th, 2019.**_  
**1300hrs.**

Naomi went out to the hangar with Brownie and Faun to meet up with Footpad and Boggard. In all honesty, both of them had forgotten how many they had, although everyone continued to insist that Boggard had lost. "You won as far as we're concerned, Trigger," Brownie said to her as they approached the open hangar doors. "Which means you get to fight Boggard, and this I want to see." There was a hint of amusement in her voice and her concern about civilian casualties hadn't been brought up and in fact seemed to be the farthest thing from her mind.

"Not necessarily," Faun spoke up. "Footpad is pretty good at keeping notes and I think he mentioned having added it all up when he invited me to come with. He's got a good memory, y'know, so the numbers will speak for themselves." Naomi nodded in agreement, causing Brownie to cross her arms and put on a mildly annoyed expression. Naomi and Faun both grinned at her until they reached the hangars, because then Faun broke off and cheerfully greeted Footpad.

"When he told us he was friends with Footpad, I didn't expect such…friendliness. Around here, I figured 'friends' meant 'he's literally one of the few people willing to play cards with me so what choice do I have'," Naomi said to Brownie as the two approached more slowly, watching the eager conversation take place from a distance. "Are they roommates or something?"

"If not, they probably hang out more often than we think," Brownie replied. "I thought Boggard and Footpad bunked together, though. I might be wrong."

Boggard grinned wildly as they finally came within earshot. "Hello there, ladies!" He spread out his arms, raising them high in the air as if they were about to witness some extravagant event unfolding right before their eyes.

Naomi crossed her arms just as Brownie had done, shaking her head and smirking. "I can already tell just by that dumb look on your face that you won, correct?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Actually, yes and no," Footpad said just as Boggard went to say something. "It's actually a tie, if you count the kills he stole from you and the ones that he took down with help. I hadn't expected so many, or that he'd catch up, but this is all if memory serves me correctly. So, we worked out a reward for both of you. Trigger, you also technically 'won', so he has to spar with you, and as agreed if Boggard won, _you_ have to give him back the money you won off of him in poker."

She reached into her flight suit's pocket and pulling out a neat roll of a couple of twenty zollar bills, at least adding up to Ƶ60.00. "Fine, here you go," Naomi said, handing it over to Boggard. "Winning it off of you was one of my better accomplishments with card games, though, considering how often you like to cheat." He quickly took the money, smirking at her.

"I'll pretend I'm not hurt by that," he replied, stuffing the money in his own pocket. The smirk he wore quickly faded. "When do you expect me to spar with you?"

"ASAP!" It was Naomi's turn to grin, and Brownie and the others joined in. "I _can_ wait, but not too long, because I'm looking forward to kicking your ass way more than I probably should be." Boggard gave a dry laugh in response, then skulked off to the hangar, saying something about getting ready to get it over and done with. Naomi waited patiently.

She thought about how good it was that they all had time to relax and have a bit of fun, and not to mention they were one step closer to reclaiming the space elevator, which put HQ in an exceptionally good mood, which put everyone else in a good mood. Brownie was also growing a bit more lighthearted in spite of the war. As it was looking, they had things made in the shade.


	3. Flawed Strategy

Chapter Two: Flawed Strategy

|…|…|…|

**Fort Grays Island, East of Usea.**  
_**May 25th, 2019.**_  
**1100hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Although Fort Grays Island wasn't completely cut off from the rest of civilization and they were fairly lenient on the soldiers stationed there, it was still a military base and as such — especially since the war had started — it regulated calls and monitored any emails sent. Because she'd been so busy recently, what with Knocker refusing to allow days off anymore and dragging them into the air for training so they'd stay sharp, Naomi wasn't able to check anything on the computer or even look at her phone.

After what felt like ages, a Saturday came and Knocker had agreed to let everyone have the weekend off, taking into consideration that HQ had been close to finishing their plans for the next mission. So Naomi went back to her quarters to take a break from the ever growing aggressiveness in the games the others had been playing all day. She would have stayed outside and continued playing, but she had hurt her knee when she and Brownie were participating in the second game of football that Boggard and Faun had started that morning and decided to give it a rest and check some emails.

Once she got inside, she shut the door behind her and hobbled over to the bunkbed across the room. The sun was shining brightly outside and the blinds that usually covered the window was wide open, so there wasn't any reason for her to turn on the light. Opening the one of the drawers to the desk opposite the bed, she pulled out a thin laptop case and set it on the desk. There was a pocket in the case, so she opened it up and pulled out her smartphone and its charger. Plugging it in, she waited patiently for it to charge up.

When it finally charged enough to be used, the screen told her that she had several missed calls and unanswered text messages. She scrolled through them, marking the text messages as 'read' and then going through the voicemails from the numbers she had in her contacts. Most of the calls were from her parents and brother and sister, all of them going back to when the war started, the day she had put away her phone and not bothered looking at it again. Naomi felt guilt wash over her as she realized that she hadn't really thought about how her family would be reacting to the start of the war and her being stationed at a base meant to keep peace on the continent.

First, she went to her contacts and tried her parent's home phone. Her mom was probably still at work, since it was around five or six in the morning in Osea, and her father rarely looked at his phone anymore. He was an early riser, usually up at four in the morning, sometimes earlier. She blamed it on him being in the military for so long and having no choice but to get up early.

It continued to trill in her ear as it called the house phone and she waited and waited. Eventually, it went to voicemail and a recording of her father's voice came on. "_You have reached the Foulke residence. We are currently unavailable, but leave a message and we'll consider returning your call as soon as we can._" _Be_\- Naomi pressed the 'end call' button before it started recording.

Alright, so she'd try her dad's phone, figuring that he either started sleeping in or he was out on a walk or something like that. Her parents _did_ own two highly active dogs that needed multiple walks every day. The trilling sound returned and went on for a little while, but finally she got an answer and it didn't go to voicemail like it had done before. "Dad?" she asked cautiously when nobody said anything.

"_Naomi! It's about time you called!_" her father suddenly shouted into her ear. She winced and moved the phone away from her ear a centimeter or so. "_Your mom's been nagging me to find a way to get ahold of your superiors and find out if you're dead or something like that. She's been driving everyone up the damn wall!_"

"Sorry," Naomi replied, tapping her foot nervously on the floor from where she sat on top of the desk. "Our flight leader's had us doing all sorts of training for the past five days. This is the first break we've gotten and I honestly haven't looked at my phone since I called Mom on Mother's Day. Uh…where are you? I tried calling the house and no one answered. I didn't expect you to have your phone on you."

"_I went for a walk in Oured Park with the dogs to get some exercise in before my flight later today._" His voice was considerably calmer, not as harsh as it was before, and in the background she could hear one of the dogs bark slightly, as if making its presence known. "_I can't really go to the pier today, considering the view is awful and most of the sights are rubble thanks to the Eruseans..._"

"Wait, you have a flight later? Are you and Mom going somewhere or something?" Naomi asked, puzzled.

"_I am, but your mom is gonna be staying in Oured with Samantha and Alvin. Your brother had to leave on some work related trip to Yuktobania, so your mom said she didn't mind if I took my own trip,_" he explained. "_I'm going to be heading out to Aulick — y'know, the state where one of the other ports was bombed? A, uh…couple of old buddies of mine invited me out there to give them a hand with something._"

"Old buddies, eh? Some guys you knew back during the war or some people you made up again for the sake of a good story?" Naomi pried, hoping he'd give her some more information. Her father was always vague, especially whenever he talked about his old job or any friends he met during his time as a soldier. He was as mysterious as they came and had twenty-one years of learning how to easily curb Naomi's curiosity. But she'd learned a thing or two from him as well.

"_I'm sure you'd just _love_ to know, but I don't really have the time to get into the details_," her father retorted. "_I will tell you that I knew them in the war, but anything other than that is classified information reserved for myself and the government and —_"

"'And you don't get to know _which_ government'. Yeah, yeah, I've heard this routine before, Dad. It was worth a shot, I suppose," Naomi sighed, switching hands to hold the phone in her right hand, her left hand getting tired. "Quick change of subject, now, before I give Mom a call so she doesn't spend forever worrying. After the bombing of the Oured Port, is everyone okay? No one's hurt, right?"

There was a brief silence on her dad's end, aside from the faint twittering of a bird and the metallic clicking from the dogs' leashes as their name tags tapped against the leash clip. "_Everyone's fine. Well, physically, at least_," her dad finally replied, before things got too tense. "_I don't know how much longer your mom is going to handle it under the stress and all that, so everyone might be coming with me to Aulick, whether or not we all go at the same time. We'll be a good ways from any military installations, far from the port for sure, so there isn't any real threat from Erusea that way._"

Naomi looked out the window, onto the tarmac where the game of football was still enduring, the laughs and cheers and loud conversation just barely audible. Miles away from here was her family as well as her country, everyone worried for their own safety as well as that of the soldiers they knew and loved. At least Erusea was trying to avoid civilian casualties, but nevertheless, the war was foolish and unnecessary. "Whatever you all decide to do, please be safe," she said, lowering her voice. "I've got to go call Mom, now. If I wait much longer then I won't be able to defuse her and she'll chew me out well past lunch time…"

"_Alright_," her dad answered. "_Call whenever you can, I suppose. Let us know you're safe._"

"Yes sir," Naomi smiled a little. Being sure to remember the right words, she spoke her goodbyes in her father's native country's language, "Ich liebe dich, tschüss."

"_Ich liebe dich auch, meine Süße_," he replied, his voice soft. Bringing the phone away from her ear, she stared down at his name and the options and how long the call had been, her heart sinking as she the realization of how much she missed her family — especially her father — began to weigh down on her. A faint _beep_ was heard on the other end and the length of the call was replaced with 'Call Ended' and it returned to her lock screen. Sighing and unlocking the phone again, she returned to her contacts. _Now to call my mother_...

* * *

_**May 28th, 2019.**_  
**1800hrs.**

Naomi's call with her mother had ended up getting drawn out for hours, with breaks in between for mealtimes and various other reasons. Her father had been the one to save her from her furious, extremely relieved mom so that she could finally get a break and enjoy what little time she had left that day. A call with _both_ of her parents took place the next day, and then her phone went back in its drawer with her laptop once Monday arrived.

Immediately after breakfast that day, Knocker had them in the air, pairing them up for their mock dogfight. Sky Keeper was sent up, rather reluctantly, out of concern that the Eruseans would possibly attempt another bombing. Although the odds were in their favor, HQ didn't want to risk it, but also didn't want to waste resources. In the end, the order was given and Sky Keeper was lazily monitoring them, the only job he had at the time was appropriately registering them on the IFF and making sure weapons were locked.

Things went on like this all the way until Wednesday, when they didn't spend as much time in the air as expected. Clown, during their mock dogfight, had worked to teach Naomi some new strategies, explaining how to be unpredictable and effective at the same time. "Y'see, Trigger, it's all in the timing," he said to her as he prepared to demonstrate, while the others 'battled' not too far away. "The same way you try and predict the enemy's next move, the same way he's gonna try and predict yours. You've gotta be unpredictable. Now, try and get behind me long enough to get a lock and fire."

Doing as she was told, Naomi turned slightly so that she was behind him, trying to take into consideration what an appropriate amount of time would be. Clown didn't seem to think about this at all, pitching down slightly with his nose. Naomi reacted, flying down as she thought he was going to do so that she could follow him, but as soon as she pulled into the dive, Clown abruptly shot up, turning the plane upside down and then leveling out on her tail. By the time she fully understood what had just happened, she'd have been dead.

"And Mage 2 is down," Clown announced, banking to the left and flying up beside her. "The best way to throw the enemy off is to do the unexpected, but trick 'em into believing you're doing the expected. Works well enough for me. It also goes both ways, as I just showed ya. When you're up against a difficult, experienced enemy, you have to think like them. And stay focused."

"That's right," Knocker agreed. "If you lose concentration, things'll get turned around on you real quick." The lesson was reinforcing things they'd been trying to burn into their memories since day one. Naomi was considering making a list, and at the very top, about five times, she would write 'DON'T LOSE FOCUS' with a marker and underline it. Knocker's voice came on again, "Golem, Mage, return to base. I've got something for you lot planned down there, so don't try running off."

After the control tower had guided them in and everyone was landed, Knocker had them work on their physical training and reflexes, explaining that it would all be worth it in the future. Naomi didn't complain, neither did Brownie or Footpad, but Boggard often lacked a filter and got himself in a little trouble for protesting one of the exercises Knocker and Clown told them to do. They had him running laps along the runway, up and down, until they told him to stop. Meanwhile, the others had to do at least fifty pushups.

The rest of the day was full of nothing but exertion and pain, after which they were sent to wash up for dinner, and Knocker tested their response times by giving them a limit to how long they would have to shower, change, and report back. Naomi felt like she was back at the base she'd done her training at, still a new recruit with a billion things to memorize and be tested on. Thankfully, Knocker let them free once they reached the mess hall.

Naomi and Brownie took their seats, and it wasn't long before the guys joined them. Faun was writing a letter to his family back home while Footpad and Boggard were talking about fresh, home-cooking and family traditions. Naomi and Brownie were facing the TV, listening in over the sound of conversations and dishes being moved and clattered about. Thankfully, the TV had subtitles and they were close enough to hear it, even if it was somewhat muffled.

OBC was playing, as it had been every day since Naomi had arrived, but they appeared to be taking a break from the doom and gloom of the war, as if no interesting developments had come about. Instead, they brought forth information about recent happenings in Oured, the Osean capital and where Naomi's family lived. The reporter, in her professional, monotone voice, could be heard as they showed a photograph of some old government building.

"_In news unrelated to the war, an unknown Osean Air Defense Force pilot threw a rock at the City Council Building just a few days after Erusea declared war on Osea. Official reports say that he was shouting furiously to those passing by and entering the building, stating that countries and their borders were the reason wars were so frequent, and that he and all the other citizens were mere pawns of the nation's government._"

"_The MPs that arrested him apologized to the city council and informed us that he was taken into custody, courtmartialed, and sent out to an air base where he will serve in a newly formed penal unit to assist in efforts to help along his country in the war. Exactly where this base and unit are located is classified information, unavailable for release to the public out of concern for the well being of our troops stationed there. '_It may be made up of convicts, but they're still Osean citizens and their crimes don't forfeit their value to our country's military —_' explained General Orson Perrault when asked of the unit in question, '_— and we must protect them all the same.'"

On that note, the reporter was finally shown, giving a nod towards the viewers and stating her name as the news cut to a commercial break. Naomi shook her head, turning her attention away from the TV and onto her dinner. "Jeez, that old geezer doesn't care about his troops, criminals or not," Naomi scoffed, speaking to no one in particular, although Brownie was the only one paying full attention anyways. "My brother-in-law served under his command and the carrier my sister served on worked in close relations with his base during the last war. Both of them say the guy was a total nightmare who put on a show just to impress the higher-ups. Sucks that the fat ass got a promotion."

"I bet it's a desk job, too," Brownie put in, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Isn't that the same guy you told me about? You were telling me a couple of stories that your brother-in-law told you and from what I heard it seems like the guy should have gotten dishonorably discharged or something. At least reprimanded and knocked down to a lieutenant until he was forced to retire."

"Tell me about it," Naomi chuckled, fidgeting with her fork while she talked. "Alvin was _so_ pissed when he heard about Perrault's promotion, I swear I have never been that scared of anyone who wasn't one of my parents when they're in a bad mood. And to make things worse, he's gonna retire — all nice and comfy — in just a few years, with money and respect he did nothing to earn."

"Well, nothing we can do about it," Brownie said with a shrug, reaching for her glass of water. She took a sip, then set it down, staring straight ahead and appearing lost in thought. After a few minutes, once their table had settled down and started to eat mostly in silence, she finally asked whatever had likely been on her mind. "Do you guys ever get the feeling that something bad is going to happen? Like, you don't know what, you just know it's bad?"

Faun, who had finished his letter and sealed it into its envelope before stuffing into his pocket, looked over at Brownie, raising an eyebrow. "Depends on what kind of 'bad' it is, and just how likely it is of happening. I really try to ignore feelings like that, since they usually are just our minds playing tricks on us." He shrugged and went back to his meal.

Always the grounded, logical one. The voice of reason, mature and thoughtful. Naomi wondered why he still spent time around them, but then again, Footpad was pretty relaxed and mature. Most of the time. And Brownie was usually a reasonable, logical person. Maybe it was just her and Boggard that were idiots. Naomi glanced from person to person, then decided for herself that it was just her and Boggard.

Brownie didn't look too pleased by their lack of interest and only mumbled something under her breath. Boggard piped up, "Look, Brownie. If anything bad comes our way, we'll easily knock 'em down. Especially if it's something in the air. I know you've seen our performance so far, and besides, we've got Trigger on our side if all else fails!" He nodded to Naomi, Brownie looking over at her for reassurance, but what else could she say that Boggard hadn't? They'd all be just fine and Brownie was smart enough to figure that out for herself.

* * *

_**May 30th, 2019.**_  
**0600hrs.**

After nearly two weeks of grueling training sessions with Knocker and Clown, HQ finally completed their next strategy and the long awaited call to a briefing came. As expected, excited chattering came from the pilots that had already arrived, waiting eagerly for the briefing to start. Brownie looked uncomfortable next to all the others, almost like she was waiting for something to happen, but nonetheless joined in on a conversation between Boggard and Footpad.

Naomi took a seat beside Clown, who wasn't sitting towards the front with Knocker like he usually did. There weren't assigned seats, so it wasn't that unusual, but a little unexpected. Clown cleared his throat, getting her attention. He made an attempt at small talk, "Knocker and myself made a couple of notes to put into your file the other day, and I noticed you have, uh…military family stationed in Oured and one's in the Navy. Your sister. She wasn't injured when the port got hit, was she?"

"No sir, she was not," Naomi replied slowly, unsure what a 'correct' response would be. Superiors didn't often fraternize, although Clown was pretty laid back when it came to that. She went on to explain, "My sister _was_ originally to be out at sea on board the _Kestrel II_ as one of the doctors, but she's currently on maternity leave. They probably won't be staying in Oured, though. Too much stress, I suppose."

"Well, that's understandable." Clown nodded, glancing towards the blank briefing screen, then up to the clock to check the time. The briefer was going through his usual ritual, reading off of the notes and orders from HQ that he had to memorize. Clown shushed the room as soon as the briefer stepped up to get started on the briefing. Unlike the first briefing they'd had at the start of the war, as soon as the screen lit up, everyone stopped talking.

The briefer greeted everyone with a quick 'good morning', then cleared his throat. "The surprise attacks carried out after the declaration of war saw the peacekeeping forces of various countries, including Osea, suffer major damage. The ships moored around the space elevator _and_ near Gunther Bay have been hit particularly hard. Numerous ships have been sunk…" he sighed, as if his next words were difficult to say, "...and abandoned."

A more positive tone came about as he went on, "Fortunately, our cutting-edge aircraft carrier _Kestrel II_ was at sea, so it was spared from the attack. Kestrel II is now preparing to launch another attack against Erusea's capital, Farbanti." The map centered on Erusea, pinpointing the location of the capital. "The aircraft carrier _Vulture_ also managed to escape Gunther Bay safely. However, it lost all its aircraft, so it's sailing empty."

Naomi leaned towards Clown, keeping her eyes on the screen, and asked quietly, "Can you even call it an aircraft carrier if there aren't any aircraft for it to carry?"

"Quiet, Trigger, just listen and stop asking dumb questions," Clown hissed, and Naomi relaxed in her own seat again, smirking and taking no care.

The briefer, who had taken notice that she'd made a comment, glared at her for a moment before he continued. "Today the International Union Peacekeeping Force reclaims its bid to the space elevator. The Fort Grays Island Air Base Squadron will rendezvous with the carrier _Vulture_ for a joint mission. The first objective will be to seize air superiority in Chopinburg in order to secure a route for the support squadrons. The enemy currently maintains air superiority over Chopinburg, so expect heavy resistance from enemy aircraft."

At first, everyone seemed to brace themselves for the 'dismissed' and a few made a move to stand up, but the briefer quickly said, "There's more, so listen carefully." He paused, waiting for everyone to relax again and pay attention. Satisfied, he continued, "Right from the start of the war, the enemy has been deploying drones. They're using a new, advanced type of drone. The unmanned, airborne aircraft carrier the Arsenal Bird carries this new drone, MQ-101."

The map, which had been showing different areas, once again highlighted the space elevator and the bay around it. In the top corner, a photo of an Arsenal Bird could be seen. "The Osean Army headed up the development of the massive Arsenal Birds and dispatched them to the space elevator to provide support. However, it's been reported that the carriers may have fallen into the hands of the Erusean Forces. If that's true, it could be a significant obstacle for us. We need to regain control of the space elevator ASAP. Good luck out there. Dismissed."

* * *

**Aircraft Carrier _Vulture_, Near Chopinburg Rainforest.**  
_**May 30th, 2019.**_  
**1450hrs.**

After rendezvousing with the _Vulture_, Golem and Mage were able to land and refuel aboard the massive ship. Golem Squadron launched first, accompanied by Gargoyle and Skeleton. They left Mage behind for a little while, as aircraft checks and whatnot hadn't been completed. Naomi wasn't too bothered by the delay at first, but the longer the wait became, the more antsy Naomi became.

They were only a few minutes behind, but it felt as if it were taking forever. Final preparations were in progress, and they were already so close to getting in the air, but something kept nagging at her. Brownie had expressed that she had some hesitation about the mission, a pit in her stomach, like something bad was going to happen. Boggard and Knocker had quickly silenced her, with the former telling her not to jinx them. But the more Naomi thought about it, the more worried she grew.

As she climbed into her plane and prepared to take off from the carrier, she forced the feeling and the thoughts of what could go wrong to the back of her mind. She had a mission to do, and what _could_ happen inevitably _would_ happen if she wasn't focused. Clown was the first to take off, then it was Naomi's turn. A voice came over the radio, one of the Vulture crew members, his voice lazy, a hint of exhaustion there that you couldn't easily miss, "Mage 2. Begin takeoff sequence. You're cleared to launch."

Naomi quickly followed Clown into the sky, taking off from the carrier, the ocean seeming close enough to touch it. She pulled into a climb, following Clown towards the clouds. The same voice came on the radio one last time. "Mage 2 is away. Mage 2. Specified altitude reached. Restrictions lifted. Good luck." His voice was a little firmer this time, perhaps a even a little hopeful.

"Thanks." She didn't know what else to say, and replied on instinct. Joining up with Clown, the two of them flew towards Chopinburg to reinforce their allies. Clown began to tell Naomi to prepare herself for their arrival, since they wouldn't know how bad the situation would be and they could either have smooth sailing or get thrown into a 'very sticky situation' as he put it.

The flight wasn't that long, a few minutes at most. As they reached the combat zone, Sky Keeper radioed in to fill them in on everything before they reached the other squadrons and joined the fray. "Mage Squadron, this is the situation. Golem and the other base's squadrons already joined forces and are engaged. You guys will arrive right in the middle of the action. Mage Squadron, eliminate all the bandits in the current airspace. We have the upper hand, but that doesn't mean we can ease up. Good luck."

"Mage 1. Wilco." Clown replied. "Alright, Trigger let's go give 'em a hand."

Checking her radar, she could see the blips on the screen at last. If she got clear of the clouds in front of them, they'd be in visual range. Following Clown's lead, they broke through the cloud cover and sure enough Golem and the others were engaged in a fight with the enemy's squadrons. It would be a few more seconds before they were within firing range. Clown seemed completely relaxed as he announced their presence to Knocker, "Mage 1 to Golem 1. Thank your lucky stars."

Staying in formation, they made a move for a pair of bandits making a feeble attempt to retreat. "Looking good, Mage Squadron. Keep up that pressure," came Knocker's response.

"Trigger, time to show the other guys that we get wet, wild, and do dirty, dirty things to the enemy. Take 'em down!" It was an order, no doubt about it. Naomi pulled away from his plane to chase after the one closest to her, while Clown banked right towards the other.

"Once you hit one of them, stick to 'em like glue," Knocker advised them. "Don't let them out of your sights, even in the clouds." Naomi came within range of the enemy she was chasing and fired two missiles at it, hoping at least one would hit. One did while the other missed and she used her gun to finish it off.

"And so, your first hunting season begins," Clown joked.

"Mage 2, bandit down. Excellent work!" Sky Keeper praised her as she turned towards another enemy, but Footpad took it out before she could. "And that's another one down for Golem 4."

"Dammit!" Naomi cursed, but the words were followed by a chuckle, forming up with Clown again, heading towards where most of the fighting was taking place and as such where most of the enemies were located. She called out to her friends, "Footpad, Boggard, how about another competition? One with the highest score wins and we can work out a prize when we get back home! Brownie can even join in if she'd like."

Brownie scoffed at this. "No offense, Trigger, but I'm a little busy at the moment and I'd rather not have to play score keeper for you morons! Shit! These bastards don't let up, do they? They're like wolves!" She grunted before going silent and Naomi could see a plane that she assumed was Brownie's break off from the others in pursuit of a bandit, while a pair of them stuck close to her tail to assist their ally. "This is Golem 2…they're running me down. I could use a little help!"

"This is Mage 2, hang in there, Brownie!" Naomi replied, and turned the plane sharply to the right before pushing forward on the side-stick and diving after the two planes that pursued Brownie. One of them left the side of his buddy and flew back towards the other just as Naomi got a lock on one and fired. The missiles hit and the enemy fighter went down. Brownie took down her own target easily and she and Naomi pulled up to rejoin the others. "Well, boys, if you're in then the competition officially starts now. That one was the second if I remember correctly."

"Thanks for that, Trigger," Brownie's voice was breathy, more of a relieved, sigh with words attached.

Footpad chuckled. "Can't speak for Boggard, but I'm in a pretty good mood right now and wouldn't mind some friendly competition. You're on, Mage 2!"

It was Boggard's turn to answer Naomi's challenge. "Hmm…Alrght, sure, I'll go up against you again. Can't wait to beat you, since we all know that competition gives me some epic, badass motivation! Be prepared for a bitter defeat, Trigger!"

"Y'know Boggard, when talking to yourself it's typically a good idea to avoid using another person's name," Naomi retorted, feeling a familiar grin creeping up. "The correct phrase would be, 'Be prepared for a bitter defeat, Boggard', I believe."

Brownie sighed at this, and Naomi half expected her to chastise them for their banter and 'childish competition' as she had once called it, but surprisingly, she said, "Eh, you know…oh, what the hell. I'll join in, too. Need something interesting to do up here other than not get shot down..."

"Not sure how your competition is going to work out," Sky Keeper commented. "Only four remaining."

Naomi and Boggard both went after the same target, ultimately Naomi was the one that took it down, briefly reveling in her minor victory as she watched the jet crumble apart in a ball of flame and crash towards the rainforest below. "Three for three!" Naomi chirped, finally pulling her plane around to find her next target. "Third kill and now only three enemies remain."

Footpad and Brownie were both flying into the clouds, going after the same enemy. Once they emerged, the two flew away from the target as it was taken down by two missiles. "Yes!" Brownie cheered, the happiest Naomi had heard her sound ever since the war had started. "That counts as a tie, Footpad, since your missile helped take him down."

Clown, Knocker, and a member of Skeleton Squadron worked together to take down one of the last two enemies remaining, whereas Naomi and Boggard both raced after the last one. Boggard got within range first and fired off quickly, leaving Naomi nothing to do but give him the kill. The missile hit and Naomi leveled out as Sky Keeper announced, "Our radar shows no sign of bandits. You're in the clear."

Several cheers came over the radio, all celebrating their victory. Naomi joined up with Clown once again as her leader commented, "I haven't even broken a sweat! Too easy."

"They have to be crazy to pick a fight with us!" a member of Skeleton Squadron said eagerly. "A rabid dog would know better!" A couple of the others agreed with him, confident in their abilities.

Naomi would have said something, but just then the missile warning alarm began to beep in her ear. Knocker shouted at them, his voice more urgent than angry, "Missile incoming! EVADE!" All aircraft began to split off from one another in a frantic attempt to get their warning to stop, since then it would put them in the clear. Both Knocker and Clown ordered them to break, but they were already doing just that.

"Wait, what the hell?" Sky Keeper demanded, confused and furious with something or someone. He — like everyone else — was trying to figure out what was going on. After a moment or two passed by, Sky Keeper's voice sounded once again, a warning this time, "Caution! A large aircraft is approaching! All aircraft, stay alert." As the missile warnings finally ceased, the scattered squadrons began to regroup higher up in the air, above most of the clouds. Much better visibility.

Naomi flew closely beside Clown, Golem and Gargoyle forming up behind them with Skeleton Squadron in the front. Several of the other pilots continued to talk over one another, everyone trying to figure out what was going on or at least get an answer from them. Things didn't seem right, and everyone was on edge. Sky Keeper spoke once more, his voice cold, "We've just learned that Erusea is utilizing the Arsenal Bird. Those bastards. They had that thing combat ready the whole time!"

As the UAVs from the Arsenal Bird began to close in, the squadrons flew out to meet them. Naomi heard Brownie mention that the enemy had a radar lock, but she continued to try and get a lock with them head on. Why did they already have a lock? Her radar lock warning began to beep in her ear. Switching to special weapons, she got a lock on the ones at the front and fired just as Brownie shouted for everyone to break. Naomi pushed forward into a dive and then pulled back up abruptly in an attempt to shake the missile. Surprisingly, it worked, but she didn't hit a single one when she had fired. "Dammit, these little bastards are tough…"

"Sky Keeper, this is Skeleton 1," Skeleton's leader tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke to the AWACS. "What do we do about that monster?" Not far off in the distance, they could see the Arsenal Bird itself, gliding harmlessly as if it were watching its drones do all the work. Almost as if it were mocking them as they struggled to hit the drones. Naomi groaned with frustration as she waited for Sky Keeper to respond to Skeleton 1. How could a machine cause so much needless frustration and anger? She wished someone could just shoot it out of the sky.

"Hang tight," Sky Keeper finally responded, his voice calm in spite of the situation. "We're just waiting for mission command. It shouldn't be too long."

"I've got a bad feeling about this…" Skeleton 3 muttered, and Naomi could hear Brownie agree with him, though her voice was practically a whisper over the radio.

Naomi tried a high-G turn to get after one of the drones, but it managed to avoid a lock, and every time she managed it and fired, it was always quick enough to dodge it. The radar lock warning continued to go off. She craned her neck, trying to look behind her as best she could before checking her radar. There was definitely one on her tail. "Damn!"

"Stay calm and focus, we'll live through this Trigger!" Clown's confidence was almost contagious, but Naomi was starting to lose track of where everyone was and was straying pretty far from them. She managed to hit the drone and pull back towards the others to help out, figuring that one was doomed eventually. She didn't understand how Clown could sound so calm as he said, "These guys are definitely a step above the last drones."

"Damn, they're agile!" a member of Gargoyle Squadron commented. "There's too many of them!"

"These guys won't go down easy," Footpad muttered. By now, his competition with Naomi, Boggard, and Brownie was long forgotten. Naomi wasn't trying to shoot them down to get a higher score than the others. Now it seemed much more important for survival than anything else. Everything was happening so fast, that nobody was really focusing on much else than the drones.

"I can't get a read on these bandits," Brownie growled. "They're dodging everything I throw at 'em!"

"I think everyone can agree with you there," Naomi replied. She was trying to focus on one at a time, however they continued to dodge and weave amongst one another, throwing her off as she tried to find where each intended target was going. At last, she got a lock on one of them and reacted as quickly as she could, firing at it. It was nothing more than smoking rubble, now. She moved on to the next, feeling her luck beginning to turn.

After what felt like forever, Sky Keeper finally got back to them. "All aircraft, no change in game plan," he explained. "Destroy the Arsenal Bird."

"We're up against that thing?" Gargoyle 2 didn't sound too confident, in fact, his tone was almost one of disbelief. They all regrouped and faced the same direction as the Arsenal Bird. It was looming over them like a massive cloud. "God help us…"

"It's hard enough keeping up with the drones!" spat Skeleton 4.

Knocker, on the other hand, hadn't lost his spunk after the semi-surprise attack from the UAVs. His order was simple and calm as he addressed his wingmen, "Golem Squadron, take out big Baby Huey! That thing's going down." Brownie followed Knocker as they began the attack, and Naomi and Clown weren't too far behind them. They soon split up and began to target different parts of the bird alongside Gargoyle and Skeleton.

Suddenly the missile warning alarm began to beep rapidly and as their missiles hit the Arsenal Bird, it fired its own into the air. It all happened so fast. "Shit!" Naomi pulled up and over the Arsenal Bird as the missiles climbed higher and began to spread out behind it and target the rest of the squadrons. Angered, she began to circle back around, alarms still blaring. "I wish I could shut these stupid alarms up. I KNOW THERE'S A MISSILE!" She managed to get a good look at the top of the Arsenal Bird. There was a strange, circular light, blue in color. A Skeleton Squadron member had mentioned something about it before, but she hadn't seen it then.

"Skeleton 1! Check six! Commander!" the frantic shout from Skeleton 2 interrupted her train of thought.

"They got me!" Skeleton 1 announced, and then static followed. Naomi's heart sank as she tried to wrap her head around what had happened.

"Damn…" Sky Keeper spat. "Skeleton 1 lost." He sighed before he ordered, "Skeleton 2, take over command." There wasn't any other choice, and the squadron needed a leader. It didn't seem real, even though she wasn't too familiar with the squadron. They were an invincible force, right? Naomi tried to forget about what had just happened and continued with the mission. The faster they got it done, the less people they'd lose.

It seemed that the almost pointless radio chatter picked up with the loss of Skeleton 1. Gargoyle 1 began to speak more than he had before. "Gargoyle Squadron, this is Gargoyle 1. Skeleton Squadron needs help."

"The hell are we supposed to do?!" Gargoyle 3 demanded, his own hands likely as full as everyone else's.

"Status?" Knocker asked Sky Keeper.

"Verifying the situation, hang tight," Sky Keeper replied.

Clown was chasing down a drone that had continued to be a nuisance to everyone, distracting them to no end. Naomi was about to break off from the Arsenal Bird to give him a hand, but he seemed to have it covered, so she continued to somehow weave through missiles and avoid any of the few fragments that fell from the Arsenal Bird. They'd barely make a dent at this point.

"Mage 1!" Knocker called out to Clown, the latter still battling with the drone. "Get your head out of your ass! Stop arguing with the damn drone and get over here and give us a hand!"

"Golem 2!" Boggard shouted at Brownie. "Missile! Evade!"

"Evading!" Brownie replied, but a sudden grunt and thud could be heard before she went silent.

"Brownie? Boggard? One of you say something!" Naomi was holding her breath, praying her friends were okay as she continued with the attack. There was nothing but radio silence as everyone waited for a reply. "Mage 2 to Golem 3. Boggard, what happened?"

At last, Boggard responded. "This is Golem 3. Golem 2 is hit!"

"Status report!" Knocker ordered, but no reply came. Naomi risked looking out her cockpit to try and get a visual on them. The radar was too cluttered to figure out who was who. She spotted two planes, one trailing a little smoke from its wing, while the other seemed to be keeping guard and firing at any drones that had gone after the damaged plane for an easy target. That had to be Brownie and Boggard. Brownie didn't respond. "Shit! Golem 2, do you copy?"

"This is Golem 2," Brownie replied at last, and Naomi breathed a sigh of relief. It sounded as if only the plane had taken damage, and for the most part, Brownie sounded unharmed. "Instruments still appear to be functioning okay. I can still fly, I'm fine." She began her turn back to the Arsenal Bird, Boggard sticking close to her wing to provide support. Naomi was now struggling to focus, and the radio chatter announcing that another friendly was down wasn't helping. Sky Keeper confirmed that Skeleton 3 had gone down.

"Where's that report?" Knocker asked.

"Continue to maintain air superiority." HQ left no room for loopholes in their order. Naomi groaned to herself, gritting her teeth as she tried to take out the main propellor. It would take forever to take it down, and the more progress they made, the more people they seemed to lose. Did HQ care about them or not? The smart thing to do would be to withdraw and come up with a better strategy. Hating to seem pessimistic, she didn't voice the fact that they were doomed to failure at this point.

Sky Keeper remained fairly relaxed, which was easy enough since he wasn't in the battle, but his voice became mildly annoyed after HQ's order. "HQ, what's happening? They can't keep this up much longer!"

"Sky Keeper, I repeat, maintain air superiority," HQ snapped, then cut out.

They had nothing else to do but follow orders. The blue circle around the Arsenal Bird had begun to grow and grow, getting larger. Confusion spread among the pilots, everyone wondering what was about to happen. The warning went off in Naomi's ear again, this time slower and steadier. "What the hell?!" Sky Keeper exclaimed. "Something's not right. Caution! All aircraft stay alert!"

The warning persisted and Naomi heard Gargoyle's leader order everyone to get out of the area. Everyone broke off, trying to get a distance between themselves and the Arsenal Bird. Once again, they began to talk over one another. Everything happened so fast that before anyone was able to relax, Sky Keeper radioed in, his voice slow and heavy, "Skeleton 2…lost…Skeleton Squadron is down. We've had too many losses. All squadrons, command has ordered a complete withdrawal. Leave the operation area immediately."

"Brilliant observation!" Gargoyle 1's voice was bitter, likely over the loss of Skeleton Squadron and possibly one of his own, Naomi had lost count at that point. "If they'd noticed earlier, more of us would've survived to hear it!"

"Save your chatter for the debriefing," Sky Keeper ordered him. "It's not like it would bring them back, anyways. Golem and Mage Squadron, give our allies some time to escape. Cover their retreat." Naomi was already turning to chase down one of the remaining drones. There were a lot of them to take out, and they seemed to know who to go after, running down the aircraft already trying to make a break from the combat airspace.

"Wilco," Knocker said to Sky Keeper. "But Golem 2's hit. Gotta send her back."

Sky Keeper didn't answer, instead telling them to get started on taking out the UAVs. Naomi had already managed to shoot down one, and she saw Clown sticking to another, chasing it through the clouds. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brownie's plane, wobbling slightly, its wing still trailing smoke. "Golem 2, head back to base!" Knocker ordered her. "We've got this under control."

"Gargoyle 1, escort Golem 2. Get her home safe." Sky Keeper ordered, and Gargoyle 1 broke off from the others and flew up beside Brownie.

"Continuing the mission!" Brownie stated, ignoring the others. It was as if she had verbally removed their hand from her shoulder, refusing the support. "I've still got my wings and everything's still in working order. Trigger doesn't need to fill in for me. I'm back and I—"

Knocker interrupted her, sounding as fed up by Brownie's stubbornness as Naomi did. "Your wing's damaged. You won't make any difference up here, and you sure as hell won't if you're dead. Get back to base and cool your head!"

There wasn't any point in arguing with his order. Brownie knew that, too. Knocker was right and she needed to get back to base, being too easy a target for the drones. Brownie's next words sounded as if she was speaking through gritted teeth and every word was strained. "_Copy that_…returning home…" She didn't want to leave, and she made it clear to them that she wasn't at all pleased by this. Naomi had a feeling that Brownie would further voice her opinion on the ground.

Naomi shot down one of the UAVs, then looked out of her canopy to see Brownie and Gargoyle 1 beginning their retreat. "Don't worry, Brownie. We aren't going to be far behind. " She tried to sound reassuring for her friend, but that anxious feeling was hard to shake. Part of her blamed it on Brownie. If she hadn't brought it up the other day, then Naomi would have a better time focusing. Perhaps she only had herself to blame. "Just make it back safe and sound, alright?"

"Sure…" Brownie didn't sound entirely confident herself. Putting on a fake, positive tone, she added, "Right, we'll get back. But don't forget, Trigger, the competition still stands. I suppose you'll win, but I'm going to give you hell for it once we get back to Fort Grays. I should get an honorary win."

"Not too likely. But…I'll think about it. You know the guys are gonna have something to say about it, though." Naomi pointed out, managing a small smile. Not like it would help much, since Brownie couldn't see it.

"Mage 2, concentrate on the UAVs!" Sky Keeper barked, ruining whatever moment was taking place. Naomi rolled her eyes and began to chase down another drone. "Retreating aircraft, leave the AO. Allies will hold off pursuit. Golem Squadron, Mage Squadron, hang in there and come back safe."

Naomi didn't know about the others, but she definitely wanted to get home and not wind up in a million pieces scattered over the rainforest. A morbid thought, but these drones were starting to get on her last nerve with their stupid dodging of missiles. However, if it was even possible, the drones seemed to be growing as weary as Naomi and her allies were. "Damn these bastards," she growled as she finally got a lock. She fired and the missiles made contact, so she moved onto the next.

"That's it, Trigger! They're machines, so don't show 'em any mercy!" Clown told her as they both began a dive after the next drone. Naomi fired one missile and let Clown finish it off. "That's it, come to papi." The ridiculous phrase directed at the drone seemed more threatening than it would have under normal circumstances. Obviously, fighting essentially flying robots was not a normal circumstance.

"Mage Squadron, you're going toe to toe with the UAVs. Keep up the good work." Sky Keeper said to them. Naomi flew alongside Boggard after one of the UAVs before Boggard split off to go after one that was gaining on their tail. Sky Keeper alerted them once again of more incoming. "More UAVs spotted! Gargoyle Squadron, they might cut off your retreat!"

Golem and Mage continued to fight, going up and down, left, right, rolling this way and that way. They had complete control, but the UAVs continued to dodge. It was difficult, but one by one they were managing to take them down, however slowly. Naomi's motivation was that she didn't want to lose anymore of their allies and on top of that she didn't want to die. Being shot down by a drone wasn't an appealing death to her.

"This is Gargoyle 1. Leaving operation airspace with Golem 2." Gargoyle 1 announced to them. Naomi sighed with relief for what had to be the hundredth time. The two of them were going to be alright. They would be in the clear, then. But as it turns out, there is such a thing as speaking too soon. Or in this case, thinking it too soon.

"Retreating aircrafts, prepare for combat! It's a bogey!" Sky Keeper warned them. "Gargoyle 1, Golem 2! Engage now! Attack!" Naomi felt her throat tighten. Could they manage it? Would they manage it? Things weren't looking as hopeful anymore. Brownie's wing probably wasn't going to be able to take much more of a beating, and she could pull some pretty crazy stunts in the air.

"One bandit, it's an Su-30!" Gargoyle 1 said.

"Gargoyle 1…CAUTION! MISSILE!" Brownie cried out to her escort.

Naomi's mouth and throat went dry as Brownie's warning proved pointless. "He's fast! He's like a—" Gargoyle 1's last words were cut off by the sound of an explosion, followed by nothing more than some static. Before Brownie even told Sky Keeper about Gargoyle 1, Naomi had a feeling they all knew exactly what had happened. They couldn't let up on the drones, though.

"Sky Keeper. Gargoyle 1 is lost." Brownie's voice didn't shake. She kept it clear, and understandable. Whoever had taken down Gargoyle 1 didn't seem to scare her at all.

"What the hell…?" Sky Keeper's own voice was bewildered as he tried to figure out what exactly was going on at the retreating aircraft's end. "Golem 2, status report!" The only response he got were a few pants and grunts with some inaudible words from Brownie. She sounded scared this time, tired and desperate as well. Naomi sucked in a sharp breath as she listened. "Just talk to me, Brownie..." Sky Keeper encouraged her.

"I'm against…an Su-30!" Brownie managed. "He's close enough that I can get a good look at his plane. An Su-30. Orange wing tips." She was starting to repeat herself. Not a good sign. Naomi continued to go after the UAVs as she listened in for Brownie. "I can't shake it off! He's matching me move for move!" Brownie was following Sky Keeper's original order and engaging._ Curse her stubbornness…_Naomi thought.

"Golem 2, stop dogfighting and run!" Knocker ordered, but if Brownie heard him and did as she was told, they wouldn't know for sure. "Shit…this is getting a little tight." Naomi said nothing as she continued to fight, wanting to get the drones taken out so they could get out to Brownie and hopefully manage to help her fight off whatever bastard was chasing her down. Another UAV exploded in midair as a result of Naomi's missiles, then she gunned down the one in front of that. Knocker praised her, "Thatta girl, Mage 2! Just keep firing!"

Naomi did as she was told, throwing a quick 'thanks' out to Knocker before quickly going onto the next. She made quick work of this one, looking at her radar to check for where the next enemy was. There weren't many left, thankfully. "Mage 2, UAV down! Keep it up buddy." Sky Keeper said to her. Naomi smiled at this. She wasn't entirely sure anyone but Boggard on occasion had called her 'buddy' before, but she was rather fond of it. It was a short lived moment, though, as her mind went back to the mission and Brownie.

"Fort Grays aircraft, we'll let you take it easy next time," Gargoyle 2 said to them, likely meaning that they would cover the retreat the next time around.

After a long while, Brownie spoke up once more. "I'm dead meat!" She was definitely out of breath, and probably in way over her head. She needed help and she needed it fast. Brownie's radar lock warning could be heard as she spoke, "I-I don't get it. Why isn't it opening fire?" That was frustration coupled with confusion. Why hadn't she made a run for it yet?

"Brownie!" Naomi wasn't going to keep her mouth shut any longer. "Brownie, get out of there already!"

"Trigger!" Brownie's voice was beginning to break. "I'm scared! I'm scared!" Whoever was on her tail was clearly toying with her. He knew how to scare her, let her know he was going to win no matter what she did.

"Hang in there, Brownie!" Naomi told her, not entirely sure what she was supposed to do. She continued to take down the UAVs. There wasn't much else she could do. "Brownie, we're almost done! Hold out a little longer, _please_!"

"This is…not good." Clown sighed.

"Brownie, break off and get the hell out of there!" Knocker ordered her. Naomi had a feeling that she wasn't going to listen. Even if she did break off, it seemed like the Su-30 guy was going to hunt her down anyways. Why would he let up just because she was retreating?

Naomi wasn't paying attention to the conversations around her. Everything seemed to be getting distant, anyways. All that was on her mind was Brownie and the drones. Gargoyle made some comment about them being able to pull through, followed by Sky Keeper snapping at them about something. _Focus, fly, fight, don't die_. She forced herself back into whatever sick reality was happening around her to check her radar for the next target.

"Does Mage Squadron still have their hotshot?" Gargoyle 3 asked. Gargoyle 2 said something in response, but his voice was getting staticky. Gargoyle 3 let out a sigh, "Well, if that's the case, then we just might make it out!"

"Don't look back. Just have faith." Gargoyle 4 said. "Golem and Mage, we owe you a debt, and we'll pay it."

Naomi turned towards Boggard and Footpad to go after one of the last two UAVs. They'd kept it busy, and Naomi wanted it dead and gone. She got a lock and fired without worrying too much about whether it dodged or not. She got it. "Hell of a good job, Mage 2," Knocker said to her. "We want as many guys outta here as possible."

"I'm grateful you're around!" Gargoyle 3 said to her.

"Yes, thanks, that's all well and good and all," Naomi replied, not meaning to seem rude but knowing full well she did. "But what about Brownie? She's out there all alone, being chased down by some psycho, we have to help her!"

Knocker quickly made an attempt to contact his wingman. "Golem 2, what's your status?" No answer. "Status report! Brownie, do you hear me?"

At last, Brownie's reply came. She was concentrating, that's why she was taking so long to answer them. "He's a predator…the weak get eaten..." Brownie's voice was just above a whisper, fear evident in her words. She was in some sort of a fear-induced daze, and Naomi could imagine that her face was probably drained of any color at this point.

"Golem 2, get a hold of yourself! Get away from the enemy!" Knocker ordered. For the first time since Naomi had ever met Knocker, he sounded worried. Worried for Brownie.

"Brownie!" Naomi called out. She could see the others going after the remaining UAV. Couldn't she leave? She made a move to. Brownie didn't have a chance if they didn't do anything to help. "Brownie, get out of there! Listen to Knocker for once, please!"

"Mage 2! Support!" Brownie cried out. "Trigger! Somebody! Support!" Naomi froze up as Brownie's last words were followed by an explosion. There was static and then her radio cut out. Naomi could barely breathe. Brownie was…dead?

"Golem 2…lost…" Sky Keeper sighed.

"Shit!" Knocker spat out the word. Naomi felt like she was starting to go numb. Her friend…they'd known each other for a while…not long enough…did she have the right to call her a friend? "Sky Keeper, where's the one that got Brownie?" Knocker's demand was almost a low growl. Was he going to go after him? Were they all going to go after him?

"Afraid he's long gone by now," Sky Keeper replied. "I'm sorry. There's nothing we could do about it. All UAVs have been splashed…"

Naomi formed up beside Clown, running on some sort of mental autopilot as she tried to register everything all at once._ Brownie's dead…sick son of a bitch toyed with her…scared her…killed her…she didn't have a chance…I couldn't help her…they relied on me…she asked me for support…_Naomi's mind began to race and her body began to shake slightly. She braced herself and only her hands trembled, just the slightest bit. She had to stay in control.

"…I said what I had to say…" Knocker hissed.

"About _what_?" Clown demanded. He sounded pissed.

"Not a girl who'd retreat. Just not in her DNA."

"That was the right decision at the time," Clown replied. "She wouldn't have been able to fight with that damaged wing."

"…No…I should've never let a fledgling like her out of my reach to begin with." Knocker said, sounding defeated. "It was my fault. And now we all have to live with the fallout."

"Golem Squadron, Mage Squadron, withdraw." Sky Keeper ordered.


	4. Adaptation

Chapter Three: Adaptation

|…|…|…|

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
_**May 31st, 2019.**_  
**1000hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Dr. Schroeder stared out at the vast, empty desert-like area that the EASA was located. As summer drew closer, the desert became more and more unbearable, parched and ugly to look at in spite of the nearby lake, the mountain range and forest in the distance becoming an almost tempting oasis. Schroeder was used to a cooler climate, one that Erusea did not offer, and it was starting to get to him. His attire wasn't the best choice for the weather that day, what with his stuffy lab coat and black polo shirt. Regardless, he liked to keep his style simple and decided he would grow accustomed to the heat sooner or later.

His eyes flicked over to his workplace off to his left, a table with various computers set up beside a trailer, underneath a white awning for protection from the sun and other elements. A water bottle bearing the EASA logo rested on the far end of the desk, sweating almost as much as he felt he was. His assistant, Massa, had been kind enough to bring him water regularly, since he went through the drinks faster than he'd care to admit. Although temperatures seemed to be rising at least three degrees everyday, water was still — thankfully — plentiful.

Giving in to his thirst, he returned to his workplace to grab his water bottle, taking his eyes off of the sky and the surrounding area for the first time in several minutes, but the break didn't last long. He was awaiting the return of one of the very reasons he had been working with EASA to begin with so he could officially get his day started. Gründer Industries had sent him out to work with Erusea's scientists in developing their drones' intelligence and making them more adaptable and efficient in combat.

In order to do this, he had to study the data collected by a well known Erusean pilot, a stubborn, aging old fellow by the name of Mihaly A. Shilage. Mihaly was an excellent pilot, the only problem was that the maneuvers he pulled in the air — however unique and hard to match they were — combined with the high altitude and his age, took a toll on his body. Schroeder had him wearing a specialized flight suit for this purpose as well as to collect the flight data, but it seemed he was always having to improve the design and order new ones. Schroeder could only hope that the suit held up during his first day in real combat.

The rest of the experimental squadron that Mihaly was the leader of, Sol Squadron, had stayed ready to fly in and support him if they needed to, but Mihaly had engaged the Osean pilots by himself. Sol had come back not too long after, but Mihaly had taken a detour so he could refuel before he made his way back to the EASA base, everyone eagerly on the lookout so they could hear the tale of how it happened. Schroeder couldn't very well blame them. He enjoyed hearing Mihaly's stories of combat on the rare occasion he chose to share.

Most of his stories were about his former pupils; pilots that he'd trained before his retirement from combat. A favorite story among the pilots was that of another of Erusea's top aces, Mihaly's best student, and the leader of an infamous squadron. Mihaly never mentioned his real name, only referring to him as 'Thirteen'. The way he described Thirteen, it almost seemed to Schroeder that the younger pilot had surpassed his teacher, or at least came close to it. If that was the case, then it would have been a blessing if they'd been able to study Thirteen instead.

Unfortunately for Schroeder, Thirteen was shot down by an extremely skilled ISAF pilot in 2005, towards the end of the Usean Continental War, and was believed to have been long dead. While Mihaly's skill was hard to match, Schroeder worried for the success of the drones and by extension for Mihaly's health. Mihaly exceeded expectations every day, but everyone had their limits. A younger pilot that flew the same way as Mihaly and could still adapt and improve whenever he needed would have been a safer option, and Schroeder got the feeling that he wasn't the only person who thought that.

Judging by the glares he often received from Mihaly's eldest granddaughter, a fifteen-year-old that resided on the base with her ten-year-old sister to look after their grandfather, coupled with how she always had a look of longing or sadness whenever Mihaly spoke of Thirteen's skill in combat, it gave Schroeder the impression that she wished her grandfather wasn't the EASA and Schroeder's test subject.

Schroeder sighed and wiped his arm across his brow, twisting the top back onto his water bottle as a cool, late spring breeze blew across the desert. Relaxing and relishing the welcomed, cool air, his water bottle slipped from his hand and hit the ground with a sharp, metallic clank as it hit the ground. Mildly startled, Schroeder cursed under his breath and bent down to lift it off the ground just as the winds began to pick up.

The personnel previously lounging about suddenly became active, running into the hangars and out. Schroeder straightened up, water bottle in his hands once again, covered in dust. He looked out towards the runway, the familiar roar of a jet engine drowning out the chatter among the ground crew. Squinting against the sun and dust that was stirred up, scowling at the unpleasant stinging in his eyes, he could make an Su-30 as it came in for a landing.

_Here he comes…_Schroeder thought, taking his time to dust off his water bottle and set it back down, next to his workplace. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he watched closely as Mihaly feebly climbed out of his cockpit, struggling as he made his way down the ladder and onto solid ground. At first, he seemed alright, able to get his bearings just fine, but then he began to cough and staggered sideways. His granddaughters rushed over to him to support him, guiding him over to a tent where he could sit down and rest.

Even from such a distance, Mihaly's coughs and wheezing could be clearly heard as he struggled for his breath. This wasn't a good sign. It meant, once again, the flight suit wasn't good enough to protect him. As if Schroeder didn't have enough work to do, now he had to put in an order for a new and improved suit. He clenched his jaws as he continued to watch Mihaly struggle to regain his composure, an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. Unlike the way he appeared in the air, now he looked like a weakened, vulnerable old man, extremely close to having one foot in the grave.

Mihaly's breathing eventually slowed, falling into an even rhythm. The ace held up a hand for his youngest granddaughter to remove the mask, as she'd been holding it up for him. Looking to her sister briefly, who gave a short nod, she slowly pulled the mask away and took a few steps back, watching her grandfather curiously as her sister helped him sit up. Schroeder couldn't hear what they were saying, but Mihaly said something to the older of the two, Ionela, and she responded before giving him a small kiss on the top of his head, turning around and making her way towards the hanger.

The youngest, Alma, didn't follow after her sister right away. Schroeder wondered for a moment if Mihaly had asked for some water or something of the likes and if Ionela left her sister to keep an eye on him, but the fifteen year old stopped, turning around and calling out for her sister. Alma hesitated, but rushed over to Mihaly and wrapped her arms around his neck to give him a hug. He gave her a small, stiff pat on the shoulder and watched as she began to skip off, giggling, after her sister. A rare, small smile played at the corner of the pilot's lips.

It was almost endearing how little they seemed to care about Mihaly's intimidating presence and almost detached demeanor. Schroeder could never fully understand him, and no matter how much time he spent studying him, he wasn't able to tell what Mihaly's emotions were. He never once complained, never turned away a challenge or opportunity, and was cool and collected during combat, all of this earning him respect from civilians and soldiers alike. Schroeder wasn't able to get close enough to him to know what he thought about his situation, though. Nobody was.

Glaring back at his computers, Schroeder thought grudgingly of how much work he had ahead of him and decided it best to stop his pondering and get started on it. The drones were going to have to be much faster and more skilled if Erusea had any chance of winning the war against Osea. So far, they seemed to have a fighting chance, and Osea still seemed to be getting themselves organized. With Mihaly on their side and the drones being tweaked everyday, Erusea just might come out victorious.

Sighing once more, the scientist turned back to his workplace, slowly making his way back under the shade. Admittedly, he cared less and less about this war every day, and it had only been a little over two weeks since it started. How much did Mihaly and his squadron care? Schroeder wondered. How much did the Erusean princess, who'd been speaking out against Osea and criticizing their strategies, care about the war?

Trying not to get too philosophical during work, he wondered why anyone would care enough to start a war in the first place. From his own, mostly neutral perspective, Osea hadn't done anything to warrant a declaration of war, and if it was it didn't seem intentional. Osea was aggressive and powerful and their politicians seemed only out for themselves more often than not, but weren't most politicians that way?

He remembered the royal family of Erusea objecting to the international space elevator that the former president of Osea had ordered construction on, but was it reason enough to start a war. Schroeder felt a headache coming on, growing frustrated that he wasn't able to understand the reason behind the war. There had to be one, and he had to understand it. Wars were pointless to him, and after the devastating war his own country had gone through when he was only around ten or eleven, he couldn't understand why so many actively and willingly engaged in them.

At least with the work being done on the drones, it would be a step towards a future where humans no longer took part in the actual, physical fighting. It would hopefully reduce casualties and improve efficiency, and Schroeder hoped that other countries would follow suit. It was all a matter of time.

Schroeder took off his glasses, wiping them off with his coat before placing them back on his head. For a moment, he just stared at his computer as it started up. Groaning at how slow it was running, he left the shade of the awning and made his way across the small patch of desert between himself and the tent Mihaly was sitting underneath. "General," Schroeder greeted Mihaly cooly once he was within earshot. "How was your flight?"

* * *

**Fort Grays Island, East of Usea.**  
_**June 3rd, 2019.**_  
**1100hrs.**

"You can't be serious." Knocker stared at the base commander with a look of anger and disbelief, able to feel the hair on the back of his neck bristle. The base commander raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a blank expression and eyes that betrayed no emotion. Knocker had just heard the commander's mission proposal, and at first it had gone well enough and the idea seemed fine, until he mentioned that he'd be sending in one pilot by themselves to clear the way for the rest of the squadron. Normally, Knocker would have volunteered himself or Clown, two pilots with plenty of experience, but the base commander didn't agree with him there.

"Pardon my choice in wording considering recent events, but I'm dead serious, Captain," the base commander growled in response. "Perhaps I can explain my reasoning for choosing Lieutenant Foulke for this mission in your own words." He picked up Trigger's file from his desk, opening it up to where the reports Knocker had written on her performance during the last missions had been placed. Clearing his throat, he began, "'Lieutenant Foulke is quick thinking and adaptable in combat, able to assess a target and fight accordingly. Possessing an excellent aim and no hesitance in combat, her TAC name — Trigger — fits her well. Thus far, Foulke has proved to be a worthy and promising addition to Mage Squadron. Captain Pierce and myself have high expectations for her.'"

Knocker watched as the base commander set the file back down on the desk, lifting his head and staring down his nose at Knocker. When he spoke again, he made sure to have an unmistakable air of authority over him. "Now, after reading that report, why shouldn't I choose Foulke — or Trigger, as you and the others call her? This mission requires someone who's quick thinking and doesn't hesitate in a sticky situation."

"Then send me!" Knocker was close to pleading, but he maintained a harsh, non-submissive tone, making his disapproval known. After losing Brownie just a few days prior, Knocker had been training them as hard as he could so they wouldn't have a repeat incident, but that did not mean he was ready to send any one of them out on a mission by themselves. Trigger especially. She was quick thinking and adaptable, but she got to eager in a fight and — similar to Brownie — didn't seem willing to retreat. "Or send her in with someone else."

"We can't afford to send you in and it's less risky if we just send one pilot," the base commander responded stiffly. "I need you to fly in with Golem and Mage after Trigger's mopped up the anti-air support around the space elevator. There's no point in arguing, Turner, I've made up my mind. Foulke is the best choice for the mission." As if he thought everything was settled, the commander turned his back on Knocker, no longer paying attention to him.

Knocker gritted his teeth, trying to take deep breaths to get his anger under control. Growing increasingly frustrated and unable to think of a compelling argument, he slammed his fist down on the desk in front of him, cursing over the loud thud from the impact, "Goddammit!" The base commander turned around, clearly displeased by Knocker's outburst. Taking a moment to regain himself, Knocker finally got to the root of his problem. "The last time I let a member of my crew out of my sights, she was chased down by some sick bastard who thought it would be fun to toy with her before he killed her! I'll be damned if I'm going to risk it again!"

The two officers stared one another down, a silence falling over them. After a couple of minutes, the commander sighed and gave an almost pitying look to Knocker. "I know what it's like to lose a wingman, and I understand that it's going to be difficult to adjust to it," he spoke with a frown, his tone having softened significantly. "But you have to understand that a lot of risks come with being a pilot. Everyone knows about it, they know before they even go through training. The success of the mission takes top priority and sometimes you can't afford not taking a risk."

"Yes sir…" Knocker replied, having broken the eye contact with the base commander, now trying to avoid it at all costs. "I understand, sir." The truth was, he didn't understand how his own commander didn't seem at all concerned for his pilots' welfare. Knocker knew mission success was important, but his wingmen mattered more in his mind than beating Erusea did. Brownie could have lived or died and the mission still would have failed. Her death had been meaningless.

"I've been watching your training, and I've been paying attention to each and every one of you," the base commander continued, turning to look out the open window, out at the overcast sky. "You've done good with them, and they're shaping up to be fine pilots, but there's always going to be someone out there that's better than them, better than you, and so on and so forth. But you can't protect them forever, and if you try to, they're never going to improve and that just puts them at more risk. You can't play babysitter forever."

Knocker clenched his left fist, his right one still red and aching from slamming it onto the desk, and sucked in a sharp breath. "Yes sir…" He was beginning to feel enclosed in the office, the tension in the room taking an agonizingly slow time to ebb away. Outside, there was a faint rumble of thunder as the storm clouds drew closer to the island, threatening a downpour on the base. There wouldn't be anymore flying done today. "Sir, if I may, could I speak with Lieutenant Foulke about the mission? I'd like to ask her if she's comfortable with this. At least prepare her for it."

The base commander glanced at him, then waved his hand dismissively. "Go ahead. She's self-confined herself to her quarters, so I asked her to pack away Lieutenant Brown's belongings to get them ready to be shipped to Brown's family in Osea. As far as I know, she hasn't left since after the service the other day." Knocker nodded in response, taking his leave. Just before he could open the door, though, he heard the commander say, "Oh, and Captain Turner? I'm assigning Lieutenant Jameson to Golem permanently. I think he's a good fit for the position and he works well with the others. To add to that, another level head out there will do you good, don't you agree?"

"Yes sir, I do," Knocker answered calmly. So Faun was now his new wingman and thus Brownie's replacement. Not that it was an issue. Knocker probably would have requested the change regardless, especially since Faun was a slightly older pilot compared to the other nuggets that stayed calm under stress. But it wouldn't be the same. _Just have to adapt…that's all there is to it_. "Is that all?"

"Mmm? Yes, that's all. Dismissed."

* * *

**1215hrs.**

The quietest place on the island during lunch hours was in any of the hangars. Ground crew and mechanics closed the massive doors, but kept it — along with the side doors — unlocked and ready to open in case of an emergency, so access was easy. Naomi was tired of being cooped up in her and Brownie's room and it was too loud in the Mess Hall. In order to get some peace and quiet, she went by the mess hall, grabbed herself a sandwich and a water bottle, got her raincoat, and chose to brave the storm and walk out to the hangar to eat.

Summertime was fast approaching, and with it came Usea's rainy season. The humidity wasn't helped by the rain, and the days became uncomfortable and sticky to the point where it was easier to stay inside and find something useful to do without getting soaked in your own sweat. Knocker still insisted they train in this awful weather, and the training had only gotten harder and longer with Brownie's death. Luckily, they would probably get a break from flying because of the thunderstorm.

Knocker had become more cautious and harder on his pilots. The only one that handled the change well at all was Faun, having become more aggressive and determined to get better after Brownie's death. He had been rather fond of Brownie, being one of her first friends when she and Naomi had been transferred to Fort Grays. They'd all managed to grow close to one another in such a short time, but Naomi couldn't help but wonder if the others were taking it so hard because they'd lost a friend or because they were suddenly aware of their own mortality. Perhaps it was both, but whatever the reason, everything and everyone was changing as a result.

That was mainly why Naomi wanted to be by herself. Although she thought of herself as a people-person and fairly extroverted, she found it difficult to socialize with the others now that Brownie was gone. They'd been in flight school together, been roommates since they were eighteen, and friendly competitors from the first time they were in the air together. Naomi was amazed they'd gotten as close as they had, but she wasn't entirely surprised by it. But now Brownie was gone and it was time to move on. Wasn't it? The others didn't seem to think so, and in all honesty, she herself wasn't buying into the 'accept and move on', even if it might seem like the best option.

Naomi heaved a sigh, as she reached the hangar where Mage Squadron's aircraft were housed, the rain pattering against the tarmac and on the hood of her raincoat. Moving around to the smaller door that was better suited for human entry, she checked the door to make sure it was unlocked and opened it up just enough for her to see inside and make sure nobody else was there. As expected, it was empty, save for her and Clown's planes and the tools. Void of any people. Not wanting to stay in the rain any longer, she opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside, letting the door slam shut on its own since there was no one it would disturb.

The thud of the door shutting echoed throughout the hangar, briefly drowning out the steady drumming of rain on the roof. While the hangar wasn't completely dark, there was a minimal amount of light, turning the Falcons that she and Clown flew into shadows, a faint shimmer along the outline of the canopies the only thing really visible. _We can change that_. Naomi turned to her left, towards the corner of the hangar and where the light switch was. Her fingers made contact with the switch and she flicked it up, into the 'on' position.

The reaction to the switch wasn't immediate, and the first sign that the lights were even in working order was the low buzzing sound that started up a few seconds after she flipped the switch. Not long after, the lights began to flicker before they became consistent and provided decent lighting throughout the hangar. Naomi pulled back the hood of her raincoat and looked around the illuminated hangar, satisfied with herself.

She made her way over to her own aircraft, the one farthest from where she entered the hangar. She ducked under Clown's plane, taking notice of some damage along his belly and on his wing as she passed it. Traces of the mechanics having been fixing it up before lunch were everywhere. After a short, uneventful walk from one side of the hangar to the other, she stopped at her plane and stared up at it. Some dings along the side and the wing were visible, the paint having been scratched away and replaced with black marks. Her plane's canopy was in desperate need of a cleaning, dust and dead bugs covering it.

Pulling her sandwich and water bottle out of her pockets, she set them down on a nearby mechanic's cart and grabbed a rag from off of the tools. The ladder that she would normally use to climb in and out of the cockpit from was already in its normal location. Climbing up the ladder, the tattered rag slung over her shoulder, she was sure that the ground crew probably could have wiped it down better than she could have, but she was already there so she might as well. Her lunch had already been postponed long enough anyways, a few more minutes wasn't going to hurt her.

Besides, what else was there for her to do? She wasn't much help when Brownie was in danger, the least she could do was help out the ground crew and give them a helping hand, however minor it was. _They have enough on their hands as it is_, she reasoned with herself. "Don't we all?" Naomi added out loud in a scoff as she began to rub at the dirt built up on the canopy. "Don't we all…"

* * *

**1245hrs.**

Knocker went by the Mess Hall after checking to see if Trigger was still busy packing away Brownie's things in their quarters. When he wasn't able to find her there, he figured she'd just gone to get lunch. By the time he arrived, however, the room was starting to clear out. The ground crew was taking advantage of Knocker's choice to remain on the ground until the storm passed over, as he was worried that the wind and lightning would be too risky, and they were already heading out to fix the dents that Golem and Mage had put in their planes.

Although the other tables had at least one or two occupants remaining as they finished up what was left on their trays, Knocker's wingman's own 'personal table' was easily identified by two things, the first one being that they all seemed to flock together and — when Brownie was still there — all five of them would be sitting at one table making enough noise for an entire football stadium. That brought him to the second identifying trait. Boggard's signature laugh and naturally loud manner of speaking.

Today the mess hall seemed quiet, though. Boggard's laughter wasn't drowning out other conversations, in fact, there was hardly any talk at all. OBC was playing on the TVs and for the first time since Knocker had been at the base, he could actually hear everything being said. OBC had taken a break from broadcasting the war and was airing an old documentary on the Belkan War in honor of the upcoming anniversary of The Seven Pillars, and most of the base personnel still eating were actually…paying attention to it? Knocker found himself mildly surprised by the change of pace.

As he looked around the room, the hushed conversations faltered as many noticed Knocker just standing by the doorway. Once satisfied that he wasn't about to tell them that there was a sortie that the base commander neglected to have announced over the PA system, they went about what they were previously doing. Eventually, Clown emerged from the small crowd, one side of his mouth tilted upward in his ever present smirk. "Lookin' for somethin' in particular?" he asked Knocker, skipping over the formal greeting from one officer to another. "The menu's a little more diverse today, in case you're interested. Soggy sandwiches, soggy salad, soggy weather…"

"'Diverse'?" Knocker snorted, risking a small smile. "That's funny, because judging from your list it sounds like there's a solid theme going on there." Both men chuckled at this, going quiet not long after. It wasn't an awkward silence, but it wasn't exactly comforting either. "Seems like the mood's following the theme. Everyone's so down you'd almost think that we were running…" He trailed off, finding his next choice of words unfitting. _Like we were running a funeral home or something..._

Clown cleared his throat, surveying the room like Knocker had done. "That may have something to do with it." He gave a nod towards the TV. The documentary had reached the point in which it went over the Belkan nukes. A mercenary and former member of the infamous Galm Team was recounting the event and his subsequent betrayal of his wingman. "Pretty depressing day, but I'll tell ya the truth, this documentary never gets old. A little dark, but at least it makes the history fun. The Belkan War was a pain in the ass to write an essay on back in college with the way they write it in those damn textbooks."

Knocker nodded in agreement. "I remember that whenever this would come on the History Channel, I'd drop everything I was doing just to watch it again," he said, sighing at the memories as he watched the former pilot remorsefully tell of his actions after the bombing. "You know I was a big fan of Galm Team back in the day. Every piece of footage of the Demon Lord, every article, biographies from enemy aces that talked about him. You name it, I studied it. It was pretty hard to find, though."

"They were somethin' else, I won't argue with ya there. Not surprised you looked up to the Demon Lord, either, considering you both fly like a bat out of hell." Clown chuckled and clapped Knocker on the shoulder. Knocker looked down at his feet, perhaps a little embarrassed, but still managing to smile. The mood had lightened up significantly and honestly, Knocker felt a lot better than he had before coming here. Clown took a breath, regaining himself. "Now that you mention it, Trigger's style is real similar to that, perhaps a bit more reckless. Reminds me of some footage I saw of the Demon Lord's wingman, but I can't remember his name for the life of me."

"You'll figure it out eventually, I'm sure. Then probably announce it to the whole base once you finally remember," Knocker teased, earning him a mildly annoyed glare from Clown. "Speaking of Trigger, have you seen her recently? The base commander said she went to her quarters but she isn't there. And nobody I've talked to has seen her since Brownie's memorial service. Evidently she's turning into a recluse. Give it a few weeks and she'll probably have an army of cats and a cane."

"She never struck me as the crazy cat lady type of recluse, but if you say so." Clown shrugged, then looked down at his watch. "I wouldn't mark 'er down as AWOL just yet. Last time I saw her was almost an hour ago. She stopped by here, got some food, and then left without a word. I have no idea where she went after that, but she probably went outside. She was dressed for the weather."

"Right. Thanks, Clown." Knocker gave a stiff nod, having some idea as to where she might have gone. Not as if there were many places she could be, it was an island after all, and not a very large one at that. "I want to talk to you about the operation that the base commander told me about later tonight. You bring the drinks?" Clown nodded in conformation. Knocker offered a small smile and turned away, towards the door to head out and try to find Trigger one more time before he called it quits.

* * *

**1505hrs.**

The ground crew returned from lunch early, having no problem with Naomi's presence in their hangar. In fact, one of the sergeants tossed her some more waterproof gear and a hose so she could help clean off her and Clown's planes. The hangar doors had been pulled open, revealing the cloudy sky and allowing for a cool, late spring breeze to blow rain into the hangar. The soapy water puddles had begun to contribute to the puddles outside that were growing due to the downpour. Overall, the rainy day wasn't as gloomy as Naomi had previously thought.

Perhaps the highlight of the day was the fact that the mechanics had a radio and had plugged one of their smartphones into an AUX cord and were now playing off music from their 'Work' playlist. It was a little ridiculous, but they all seemed to enjoy it. Naomi noticed that the mood was lighter here than it had been in the mess hall. Although she wasn't a big music person, she was able to appreciate the extra motivation that came with it.

Everything was going fine, her thoughts off of her lack of sleep and Brownie's death as she scrubbed at the plane and focused on the music playing in the background, humming along to it, occasionally muttering the lyrics to herself. A popular song from the last war, The Journey Home, was playing in the background. It was an upbeat, pop cover that Naomi didn't care too much for, but it was alright. Most of the crew around her voiced their differing opinions on it while they worked, drowning out most of the music. "Oh, c'mon," one of them, a gruff, older mechanic, scoffed when a young airman suggested that this was the best version of the song he'd heard. "The only good version of this song is the original."

"Can't say I disagree with him," Naomi put in with a chuckle, glancing over at the two men. "You should have heard my brother-in-law's rendition of it. I can't say that this one is much different. Only addition is the music in the background." The airman that had originally complimented the cover gave a huff of annoyance when the sergeant in front of him laughed and gave him a light shove on the shoulder. At last, the song ended, moving on to an older, laid back, acoustic based song. The sergeant walked past Naomi and muttered something about how the song was 'decent music' in comparison to what they'd just heard before.

As the day progressed, the rain began to let up and the sun was desperately trying to shine through the clouds. Eventually the rain stopped completely, making for a rather pathetic storm in her opinion. It also meant Knocker would probably find them something to do that day. Speaking of Knocker...Naomi looked outside, hearing footsteps sloshing through the puddles as they made their way to the hangar. Knocker was approaching, Faun right beside him, the rest of Golem trailing behind, in some deep conversation.

It wasn't long before they entered the hangar and made their way towards Naomi. "Joining the ground crew from now on?" Faun asked her with only a hint of teasing. "Because I'm gonna say it now: Soap suds and rubber boots don't become you." Naomi glared at him, smirking as she aimed the hose at him, silently threatening to spray him. He quickly put his hands up and laughed. "Relax there, Trigger. Save it for the Eruseans!"

"Don't worry, I will," she replied, lowering the hose. _They deserve far worse, if you ask me. After what that bastard did to Brownie_. Naomi straightened up as Knocker cleared his throat, turning her attention away from Faun and her own thoughts. "Captain," she greeted him. Glancing at the others, she asked him, "What are you all doing here anyways? Did HQ give a briefing on a new mission or something and decided not to tell me?"

"No, nothing like that," Knocker said quickly. "Golem Squadron is going to be doing a quick little patrol, that's all. We wanted to check with the mechanics and make sure that our planes were ready." He looked behind her at the F-16s, still in the works but looking better than they had before. "I'll admit, you've done a decent job of cleaning up those planes. Looking sleek and shiny so far. Maybe Faun's not too far from the truth."

"He's just looking for less competition," Naomi answered, smirking as she made eye contact with her friend. Faun rolled his eyes and shrugged, following after Boggard and Footpad so he could check on the status of their planes. "I'm not gonna stay on the ground for too long, I hope. For one I want something to do and second, I love the sky too much to sit back and let Golem have all the fun."

"That reminds me…" Knocker put on an expression as if he'd just remembered something, but his tone said otherwise. "The base commander has you in mind for their next move."

Naomi let the hose fall to the ground and crossed her arm, shifting her weight off of one foot, putting her in a more relaxed position. "Me?" Her interest was piqued. "Go on, then. I'm a little confused, though. I'd just be going out with Mage and Golem anyways, so why singling me out? Are they having me do something else while you guys take out the enemy forces and keep them occupied?"

Knocker sighed. "In a way…not exactly, but they are having you go off by yourself." Naomi felt her stomach drop at this. She stood there, mouth hanging open. It wasn't that big of a deal, she knew that, but she still hated the idea. There was safety in numbers, and if it was just her, any number of things could go wrong. "The details of the mission will be explained in the briefing coming up, but all I know is that you'll be dodging enemy radar and dealing with some anti-air weapons."

"And you approved this? No offense Knocker, and with all do respect, but did you and HQ forget what happened the last time we sent someone off on her own?" Her words unintentionally came across as a challenge. "I mean, it's been four days. I doubt you suffer from any short-term memory loss, but it's debatable with HQ half the time…"

"I'll have you know I'm completely against this entire operation," Knocker replied, holding his head up and visibly tensing up. "I shouldn't have let Brownie out of my sight, and the last thing I want to do is let you go off on you're own. You're too inexperienced and you've got a lot to learn before something like this should be placed in your hands. But they all seem to think you can handle it and Golem Squadron and Clown will be there to back you up as soon as we can. If you'd like to refuse, though, I can try and send myself or Clown in instead and let you hang back with reinforcements."

"Faun's a better option for this. Or Footpad." Naomi pointed out, taking a deep breath. "Not that I think it's a good idea for anybody to go off on their own." Looking over at where Faun, Boggard, and Footpad were having an animated discussion, she frowned. They were handling everything better than she was. And they all had one another. Turning back to Knocker she said, "I don't like the idea, but I'm willing to hear more about it. I'll do it."

Knocker raised an eyebrow, his expression and tone softening. A rare occurrence, especially towards any of his wingmen. "If you're sure. I'm actually feeling a little hopeful about this, now that I know you're willing to do it. We'll have a training exercise in the morning just to make sure you stay sharp out there." He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "See you soon, Trigger."

Naomi watched as he left the join the others, giving a small chuckle. Anxiety began to creep its way back and there was a strange chill running down her spine. Going off on her own would be different. She wasn't sure she'd be ready. But her squadron would be there. "We can handle this. It's just one step towards ending the war."

* * *

Author's Note: _Here's a nice little filler chapter for ya. I feel really bad about not updating in a while, but schedule's and real life can be a massive pain. __I tried some new perspectives in this, including that scene with Schroeder at the beginning. Expect more of that, since I want to show other viewpoints besides Trigger's._

_Ya'll are getting a double update because you're all so awesome and patient. Next up is _the_ chapter, so strap in because things are getting interesting now!_

_Please let me know if you spot any typos in the story or anything else that possibly slipped through when I was editing, thanks!_


	5. The Hero's Fall

Chapter Four: The Hero's Fall

|…|…|…|

**Gunther Bay, Usea.**  
_**June 6th, 2019.**_  
**1800hrs.**

|…|…|…|

The sky was a dark shade of orange, the sun a fiery ball sinking below the horizon. Dark, scattered clouds moved slowly with the wind, still hanging in the air after a recent storm and blocking a lot of the view. Putting that aside, there were moments where the clouds would break and Naomi was able to just barely make out the impressive sunset. She knew she wouldn't have a lot of time to enjoy it, though, so she tried her best to relax on the way.

Ahead of her, the space elevator lay waiting for her arrival, and with it the Erusea's radar network and anti-air weaponry. They had the Arsenal Bird on their side, an unfair advantage in any situation. No wonder Osea had constructed two of them. Air superiority was an important asset in almost every war, and those that possessed it were most likely to come out victorious. Osea had a nasty habit of building massive, destructive aircraft and not keeping a close enough guard on them.

Obviously that wasn't the only thing they were terrible at guarding. They lost the space elevator for starters, which was one of the first things Erusea's forces moved in on once the war started, they lost both Arsenal Birds, making things risky for the pilots in their air force, and to top it all off, they lost their former president. The man was well respected among the Osean citizens and among other countries, such as Yuktobania and previously by most of Usea.

Former President Harling was known best for his actions before, during, and after the Circum-Pacific War. The briefer had referred to him as the 'hero' of the war, but Naomi didn't quite share that sentiment. She remembered reading the articles on the pilots from Sand Island, and then remembered many books and articles referring to the Ghosts of Razgriz. A flag with the squadron's emblem flew in Oured Park. Whoever the Razgriz was, that's who had ended the war and brought peace to Osea for a solid nine years. Harling contributed, yes, but was he really as great as everyone believed?

A voice jarred her from her thoughts. It was Sky Keeper, his voice as light and calm as ever as he addressed her. "Trigger, how you feeling out there, kid?"

Naomi took a moment to respond, trying to decide the best way to phrase it. "Better than I thought I would, but I'm still nervous," she admitted at last, eyeing her radar and doing a once over of all of her controls. Pre-flight checks had taken forever as she wanted to be thorough, but Naomi was not any less anxious being out on her own. "I'm glad I've got you looking out for me, Sky Keeper, but I miss the others. I've got a bad feeling about this, honestly. What if I screw up?"

Sky Keeper didn't answer for a few seconds. "You'll be fine. I'll talk you through it to keep your mind off of the mission," he reassured her. "Nothing's slipping past me this time around." Naomi couldn't help but smile at this. "Alright, you're entering the operation area now. You need to maintain radio silence. We'll be able to radio you, but you are not permitted to make contact, understand? If you're spotted then the mission's over. Stay out of the enemy radar and keep your cool out there. Oh, and use of weaponry is also forbidden. Unfortunately, it'll give you away. Sorry about that, Trigger."

Naomi nodded to herself, diving to a lower altitude to get out of the clouds, which had become thicker. She had to bite her tongue to keep herself from talking. She never realized until then just how much she relied on communication. Talking to herself was also an option, but then she feared she'd sound crazy, even if no one was there to hear her. Sky Keeper radioed her again, "Okay, you're now officially heading up the Harling rescue mission. The success of this relies on you and your performance. Good luck out there."

She let out a deep breath. _Screw it_, she thought. _Talking to yourself never hurt anyone. Worst that could happen is I wind up crazier than I was when I accepted this dumb mission_. "No pressure there, eh Sky Keeper?" Naomi muttered to herself, keeping her eye on the radar so she didn't get caught in the enemy's radar. So far, everything was going just fine. She could only pray that things continued this way.

As she executed her first turn, bringing herself out of the clouds and through the narrow opening in the radar network, the space elevator became barely visible. All Naomi could see of it was the upper half reaching high into the sky, through the atmosphere as it was said. A part of her wondered why Harling had been there. He was inspecting it, sure, but why? It looked safe enough for its intended use, and there wasn't any reason for it to not be in working order. Just what was its purpose anyways?

"Trigger, you're a third of the way to the rendezvous point," Sky Keeper spoke at last. "Good job, but remember to stay focused." Naomi banked left at the last minute, barely missing the radar, having lost her focus for a second. Funny how Sky Keeper said that in the nick of time. She was struggling to keep her plane on course, the gusts of wind providing resistance and causing her to waver in the air.

By now Naomi had a clear view of the Space Elevator through the clouds and she was able to see its base and most of its shape. The sun setting in the background made for a stunning sight. She found herself surprised by the…elegance it had. Only having seen pictures, seeing it in person, even at a distance, made it far more impressive to look at. "Stay focused," she reminded herself. "You can't get caught up in staring at that thing. It's the cause of this whole thing if you think about it. I still don't understand why Erusea thought it was a threat. It doesn't look like a weapon…"

The wind was less of a problem now and she was able to move with little to no trouble. Below her, just a couple of hundred feet between her plane and her ocean. Naomi worried that if the plane got too jerky from the wind, then she'd lose control and crash into the ocean. She had a serious fear of drowning, and if she wasn't killed on impact and didn't blow up, then that's how she'd end up. Shuddering at the thought, she gained some altitude. It wasn't much, just enough to set her mind at ease as she went on.

"You've got two directions you can take here. Either one should work, so just go with your gut, Trigger," Sky Keeper told her. Naomi checked her radar and then looked out to her right at the position of the space elevator, choosing her path from there. Following up on his promise, Sky Keeper began to talk to her and keep her calm. "Don't worry, we're watching over you." She had to admit that talking to herself, however little of it she had actually done, was starting to get to her.

"You're making good progress, Trigger. You're currently halfway to your rendezvous point." Sky Keeper's voice was growing more and more positive. The anxiety Naomi was feeling was slowly ebbing away. "Look, I won't lie, but you're going to be on your own for a while out there. Just you and your radar. But just know that we're all pulling for you. You'll make it through." Naomi continued on her path, worrying she'd lose the communication when she flew into some thick clouds. Everything around her was brown and fuzzy, her only form of vision being her radar.

After holding her breath for a few seconds, she finally emerged from the clouds just in time to make a turn. She was almost to the space elevator, if she could just keep it up for a few more minutes. The mission was almost complete. Everything would be smooth sailing from there on out. It was all moving so quickly. By now the space elevator was so close she could touch it, but she wasn't out of the maze yet. "You're three-fourths of the way there," Sky Keeper informed her. "It's been a long flight, but you're nearly home. Keep it up!"

Naomi took a deep breath and closely monitored her radar as she made another turn. Mentally trying to prepare herself to jump into the fire once she arrived, unsure how much anti-air resistance they'd have, she was relying on muscle memory and her reflexes to fly at this point, giving some short directions to herself. Level out. Go to the left. You're to close to the right…you're gonna get caught —

"You know, Harling is…still the president in my eyes," Sky Keeper put in, his tone now more subdued than it had been previously. "He's the one who ended the war, built the space elevator, and launched a spaceship from it." _Oh, yeah. I forgot about that_. The launch wasn't a secret, in fact, she was pretty sure the OBC did a report on it and it was a big deal for a while. One of Osea's first deep-space missions, there for exploration. "Despite all of his success, Harling always remained a humble hero. I'll do everything I can to help you and the rest of Golem and Mage save him. Lend me a hand, Trigger…"

"I already am," Naomi huffed out, making sure not to actually radio him to respond. At this point, he was getting too deep. Last thing she wanted to do was have him go all Faun on her and get into some philosophical monologue while she was trying to focus. She was almost there and starting to wonder why the Eruseans were so paranoid that they'd have this ridiculous network set up. It wasn't that hard to maneuver through either.

"Rendezvous point dead ahead!" Sky Keeper called out. "Just a little further. Hang in there, alright?" Naomi looked at the radar, seeing a small opening that she would just barely be able to fly through. She made a sharp turn and leveled out, keeping her plane straight and heading directly towards the space elevator. Finally able to gain some altitude, she pulled up to around seven hundred feet and awaited further orders from Sky Keeper. "Trigger, the first stage of the mission is clear. Don't celebrate just yet, though. The real fight's about to get started. Radio silence is now lifted. The auxiliary craft will be arriving shortly. You're cleared to engage."

Several blips appeared on her radar, clustered around the space elevator. "Finally!" Naomi let out a sigh of relief, overjoyed that she was finally able to talk. _Gosh, I sound like Alvin. In all honesty, how does Samantha deal with it?_ Making a dive for the first AA gun, she fired two missiles at it once she got a lock. "You have no idea how much willpower that took. I mean, it wasn't too bad, but it really sucks when no one can hear you. Really glad we all have you, Sky Keeper!"

"As happy as I am to hear that, Trigger, you need to focus on taking out the anti-air weapons around the space elevator and spend less time talking to me," Sky Keeper replied. "We have to secure the landing zone for Sea Goblin, otherwise the mission will fail. They aren't going to be able to make it with this much fire, so work more and talk less." Naomi nodded and took out a SAM site followed by another AA gun. "Target down. Nicely done!"

The Eruseans made themselves seem somewhat paranoid. First they had a ridiculous, difficult to navigate radar maze as Naomi was now calling it and then they put up a dozen anti-air weapons around the elevator. Did they not trust their own military or something? Shaking her head slowly, she pulled herself from her thoughts when she missed one of the AA guns and pulled back around to fire at it again. "Getting kinda lonely out here," Naomi said to anyone who would listen. "When are the others gonna get here?"

"Trigger, sorry 'bout the wait," Clown's voice came on in response. "Took us a while to catch up with ya, but the cavalry's here!" Naomi grinned, still working on eliminating the targets.

"Golem Squadron," Knocker adressed his men. "Trigger jumped through the fire. Now it's our turn!"

"Understood," Footpad replied. "We'll be there shortly, Trigger, just hold on a few minutes longer."

"Roger that, Footpad," Naomi said, working one target at a time. She should have chosen a different plane, one equipped with anti-ground for its special weapons, but she chose her trusty F-16 instead and she was paying the cost. The ground crew gave her the option of several other planes, the F-14D had been an option, but for one it wasn't much better suited for Air-to-Ground than her Falcon was. That and Clown and Knocker shot down the idea, stating that it was risky enough to put one pilot at risk and that they didn't want to send her in with an WSO.

"Gotta let you all know, I'm not up to a competition today," Boggard radioed to his wingmen. "Trigger, I'm letting you know this because I don't want you to overdo it out there."

"Har-har," Naomi gave a sarcastic laugh. "Funny guy." As Naomi continued to work on taking out the AA guns and SAM sites, Sky Keeper ordered Golem and Clown to destroy the enemy before they could respond. Gargoyle Squadron was also on its way to provide support, but they didn't say how far out they were. "Mage 2 to Sky Keeper, when is Sea Goblin's ETA?" She pulled up just as she hit another AA gun and turned to find the next target.

"Sea Goblin will arrive shortly," Sky Keeper replied. "About five minutes at the most. Eliminate the hostile anti-air before then." Naomi flew close to the ground, taking out the last of the weapons and then pulling up as they exploded. Sky Keeper's announcement quickly followed. "All SAM sites down, and all anti-air guns destroyed! Nice work Trigger, the landing zone is now secure. Sea Goblin, you're cleared to land."

Naomi circled around the elevator as Sea Goblin announced their approach, no longer having the risk of being shot down hanging over her head. In the distance, Golem Squadron and Clown had finally arrived, keeping a close formation. She was taking the opportunity to examine the elevator. It was an interesting shape that resembled a triangle. The main elevator formed a straight line all the way into space and the. Naomi flew through the four Posture Control Systems — that's what they were called according to the blueprints she saw during the briefing, anyways. Maneuvering through them, she began a climb alongside the windbreak, curiosity getting the better of her.

"This thing is…really interesting…" Naomi said to herself, eventually breaking off from the windbreak and turning her plane in the direction of the rest of her squadron to regroup. Flying in formation while they awaited further orders, she spoke to the others. "I could see why Erusea would feel as if Osea was trying to take over with that thing. It's impressive, but I don't see how it's a threat."

"It isn't," Clown replied matter-of-factly.

If he wanted to say more, he wasn't able to. Sky Keeper's voice had an edge of anxiety to it as he said, "Multiple bandits have been detected over Selatapura harbor. They're container launched UAVs! Golem, Mage, move in to intercept them. Keep them away from Sea Goblin at whatever cost!" Naomi followed the others towards the city just a short distance away.

"Shit, not these guys again," Knocker spat out once the drones had shown up on radar. It wouldn't be long before they'd be in visual range of them. "Alright, listen up! I want everyone stick close together and watch the others back. You get shot, you and your wingman pull out while we cover your retreat. Everyone's comin' home today, got it? Stay alert and you'll be fine." Although he was stern enough to allow no argument, nobody was willing to present one. Knocker was right. He didn't want to lose anyone else, as evident by his resistance to send Naomi on her own, and he was going to do whatever it took to get them home _and_ complete the mission. It was difficult to not admire that.

Sea Goblin began their landing as Golem and Mage flew towards Selatapura to intercept the UAVs. "Sea Goblin here. Going up to meet our two VIPs." At least they were able to land safely. Now all there was to do was keep the UAVs off of Sea Goblin's tail. Naomi looked back at the elevator, flying along the bridge that led to the mainland, but she was too far away to see anything other than a moving black dot as it lowered to the ground.

"The rescue craft is tagged on," Sky Keeper announced. "Initiate the rescue. Golem and Mage, the rescue craft is defenseless on the ground. Destroy all hostiles before they're able to reach the elevator."

"We owe you guys for this," one of the soldiers from Sea Goblin radioed. He sounded on the younger side in comparison to the guy that had previously been communicating with the pilots. "Thanks to the pilots that took out the anti-air stuff around this place. I'm sure the president will be real grateful for all of your hard work. I know we are. I just hope we all can make it out of here…"

Clown sighed, "It's been a long journey, but you're on the home stretch. You'll be in and outta there in no time at all, we're gonna see to that." He and Naomi split off from Golem and went for the containers on the far side of the group, leaving Footpad and Boggard with the ones towards the center, and Knocker and Faun went for the ones at the far right. They'd have the mission complete in no time if they kept it up.

"I'm having Gargoyle Squadron stand by at the elevator while you all take out the containers," Sky Keeper explained to them in his best mix of a serious and reassuring tone. "Don't worry about the UAVs that are already launched. Gargoyle can handle them." Naomi sighed and dived with Clown to get a lock on the nearest container, blowing them up before it could launch any more. The went along the shore, taking out as many as they could, one by one.

"This is Sea Goblin," the rescue team's leader spoke again a few minutes later. "Heading over to the ex-prez's location now!" Several UAVs had already launched and immediately zipped past the squadron heading for them, heading directly towards the space elevator with the intention of taking out Sea Goblin. As the leader of Sea Goblin radioed again, the sound of air whistling as a missile approached could be heard, followed by a muffled explosion, "UAVs are approaching fast — damn, they're firing! Take cover! Get behind that container!"

"Wasn't Gargoyle Squadron supposed to be standing by?" Faun, who'd been silent up to that point, demanded in what was almost a snarl. Naomi looked at her radar and the only thing she saw by the elevator was Sea Goblin's craft. Faun must have done the same thing she had, because he suddenly yelled at Sky Keeper, "Shit, where the hell are they, Sky Keeper!? Somebody's not doing there job and we've got our hands full over here! Tell those idiots to get off of their asses and get over here!" Rarely had Naomi heard him so angry, but his demeanor _had_ changed ever since Brownie's death. She hoped it wasn't something she would have to get used to.

The radar beeped suddenly as four new blips appeared. Gargoyle 3, who'd assumed command of Gargoyle Squadron following the death of their leader, announced their arrival. "We were running a little behind schedule," he said calmly, as if he wasn't at all bothered by Faun's outburst. "Our carrier was attacked by some more of Erusea's drones and we had to take care of that before we could get out here. Engaging now." The explanation didn't seem too impossible, knowing Erusea's recent tactics of attacking the weak, but Faun let out a snort of disbelief over the radio, muttering something like 'yeah right'.

A few of the UAVs began to disappear from radar, but they were still working on taking out all of the containers and many had launched most of the drones they were carrying. It was becoming overwhelming for everyone, and Naomi had a hard time not engaging the drones, as they offered a brief distraction, flying around as if taunting them before banking towards the elevator. But she reminded herself that the flow would end if they took out its current source. "There's too many," Gargoyle 4 commented. "We aren't going to be able to take all of them on our own."

After what felt like ages, they took out what they believed to be all of the containers and Knocker ordered, "Everyone return to the elevator and give Gargoyle a hand. We can't afford to fail this mission." Naomi hit the afterburners to catch up with Clown, who'd already started back that way. Footpad and Boggard had formed up beside her, whereas Faun was remaining close by Knocker. In their ears, Sea Goblin was continuing to report their status, frantically returning fire at the UAVs.

"More UAVs are approaching the space elevator," Sky Keeper said urgently. "Stop them before they get there…shit, there were more containers than we thought…updating your IFF!"

"This is getting insane…" Naomi felt pent up frustration surfacing and a knot forming in her throat. Suddenly it wasn't looking as hopeful as she previously thought. She turned back to the city and the containers now appearing on her radar. _Take out the source_. Just to make sure she wasn't needed elsewhere, she asked, "Knocker, what do you want me to do? Handle the containers or deal with the drones?"

"Trigger, you take out the containers we missed. Footpad, Boggard, you two take care of the approaching UAVs." Knocker had quickly assessed the situation and formed his plan, though Naomi had already begun attacking the remaining containers. "Clown, Faun, the two of you remain with me and continue assisting Gargoyle in supporting Sea Goblin!" A chorus of 'yes sir' followed almost instantly.

"Ex-prez identified!" another soldier from Sea Goblin announced excitedly. "Behind the gantry crane! Mr. Harling, stay right there, we're coming for you!"

"Alright, great!" The knot in Naomi's throat wasn't as tight after she heard them say they found Harling. A spark of hope. "Be careful out there and bring him home, guys!" She hoped the encouragement was at least mildly helpful. Maybe it would give them some mental motivation, who knew? Firing two missiles, she took out what she was desperately praying were the last of the containers. "Sky Keeper, this is Mage 2. Containers are destroyed. Is that all of them?"

"That should be the last of them," he answered. "Help the others take down the UAVs, now. Sea Goblin's still taking some hits."

"Speaking of Sea Goblin...How are you guys holding up down there?" Naomi asked them, wanting to know their progress. She climbed up to engage a drone that was on its way to the elevator, directly in front of her. She wasn't too far away herself, and was close enough to get a lock on it. Keeping a lock on it was the difficult part, as it began to weave and dodge and twist through the clouds. Naomi was really getting tired of them. _Slippery little bastards..._

"We're not doing too good…" At last, Sea Goblin responded. "Jacob's been hit…he was the leader…he's…he's dead." There was a pause, likely as the team returned fire to the drones, then he came back on, "We've almost got him…awww, shit. Incoming rocket!" Another whistle of air, an explosion, and then the transmission cut to static. Naomi continued to fire at the drone she was still chasing, trying not to lose her focus. Were they…dead? They'd been lucky before, maybe it missed them?

"Sea Goblin! All survivors! Respond! Is Mr. Harling alive?" Sky Keeper asked, having lost his calm composure for just a moment. Naomi couldn't help but give a bitter laugh at his words. They didn't care about the rescue team at all. She probably should have figured this out from the start, but all they cared about was Harling, and by extension, Sea Goblin. If they died, Harling was either captured or he died with them. Of course, it was understandable why they needed him, being such a diplomatic person, but they could easily achieve peace without him. Why did she feel awful for thinking that? It's not like she wanted him or anyone else dead.

"They got the chopper and Sierra 2!" yet another new voice from Sea Goblin shouted over the radio. "That was thermobaric!" There was yet another pause as they continued to fire at the attacking drones. Naomi had just managed to shoot down the one she had been pursuing and was now trying to locate another one. "Shit, another rocket!" Sea Goblin's transmission cut out for the last time. Naomi's stomach dropped and her throat tightened. This was it. There wasn't anything they could have done. _We weren't fast enough..._

"Damn…" Sky Keeper spat.

"They're swarming," Clown pointed out. Naomi wasn't able to see him, but she knew that their squadron was having a difficult time keeping close together. "There's no way we can provide adequate cover in this. They're relentless!" Naomi was trying to focus on one drone at a time, but she kept losing them and it made her wonder whether every time she managed to hit one, it slipped away and let one of the others take over for it. It made it so they were difficult to down, but surely they weren't that smart? It's not like they were animals or something. They were programmed to act this way, so somebody had the foresight to prepare them for situations like this, right? That seemed unlikely.

"This is Colonel Johnson…er…do you copy?" After silence from the ground and rescue team, Naomi had assumed that they were dead, and it sounded as if the radio being used had been damaged, causing a fair amount of static. Colonel Johnson must have been the officer that had accompanied Harling to the facility and hid him when the attack on the elevator happened. That made sense, and it also meant that it was likely Harling was safe and alive, so maybe there was still hope for Sea Goblin after all. "I am with President Harling. The rescue unit is down, along with the soldier who had this radio. It…it was unfortunate that such a thing happened…but no matter what, I will get Mr. Harling out of here..."

"Sir, we feel the same way," came Sky Keeper's tired response. He was still holding out hope, though, as evident from the fact that he didn't sound completely defeated. "We'll figure something out. Is there anything around the elevator that could provide transportation? A truck or a car, perhaps? Not the safest option, but it could get you across the bridge and into the city." Golem and Mage all formed up, and together they managed to take out the remaining drones. That should buy them some time before Erusea sent more in.

"That's the first thing we set off to find when the rescue team went down and the firing stopped. We've just found an Erusean transport craft," Johnson replied. The static was starting to clear up, making it easier for them to understand him. It wasn't a perfect connection by any means, but it was improving. "It's engines are on and it should be able to fly." Naomi wondered just how they were going to manage that. The briefing didn't tell them what branch the colonel was in, they didn't even tell them his name or what he did. How did he intend to fly? She doubted Harling knew how to, even then, Johnson probably wouldn't allow it.

"I heard you were in the air force, Colonel. Can you fly?" Of course the AWACS knew more than they did. Sky Keeper always had to relay the information, because apparently the pilots that were actually in the war and fighting, all while HQ sat behind their desks all safe and sound, were too stupid to ever get any information. If this was how everything was going to go, she wanted out.

"And imagine my surprise when the briefing doesn't tell us about any of this shit," Naomi said to her squadron mates bitterly, but Knocker and Clown both shushed her, offering no response other than that. Frustrated, she remained where she was and tried to patiently wait for their next orders. Gargoyle Squadron had already taken some damage and withdrawn, so she had her fingers crossed that enemy reinforcements didn't show up. It would be like Chopinburg all over, no reinforcements and nobody to cover a retreat should they be forced to withdraw.

"It's been a while, but I can fly better than Mr. Harling can. It's like riding a bike, right?" Johnson was trying his best to lighten the mood and sound positive and confident. It was obvious that he was also trying to keep a professionally cool demeanor as well. "The craft's in good condition. If I can figure out the controls, I should be able to get it in the air."

"It'll do." Sky Keeper said softly, then he cleared his throat. "All squadrons be advised. The call sign is Mother Goose One. I've sent the information via the data link. Be sure to keep them out of your line of fire."

"Mother Goose One?" Johnson scoffed. "That's the best you can come up with?"

"Someone from HQ sent it in," Sky Keeper explained calmly. "They got the idea from a major that served in the last war under Harling's command. It's quick and easy to say, so it'll have to do."

Naomi sighed, starting to get tired of flying around and doing nothing. Right now all they were doing was waiting, and it was becoming monotonous. "Sky Keeper, the area's clear. All UAVs have been splashed and all containers destroyed," she said, keeping her annoyance in check and not allowing it to spill into her voice. "Mother Goose One is safe to take off whenever they're ready. Although I'm in no authority to say so, I'd appreciate it if we could hurry up and get this show on the road."

"Getting antsy, are we Trigger?" Faun asked her. Not in a taunting way, in a genuinely curious and concerned way. "You just sound a little impatient. You've been pretty quiet up until now, so what gives?"

"Well, this entire time I've been thinking, and honeslty, I've got a really bad feeling about this," Naomi replied, carefully looking out of the canopy and out at the bay, surveying the area and checking her radar frequently. "That was all too easy than what we've previously dealt, don't you agree? It doesn't seem right. I feel like Erusea wanted us to get this far…there's something up their sleeves, but I don't know what it it. I mean, think about it, all the other times they didn't hold back. They sent almost everything they had. But now they just leave their containers undefended and launch off some pathetic drones?"

"It was far from easy, Trigger," Knocker said to her. "These weren't a step up from the last drones, but they still offered a challenge." He paused, as if thinking about everything she'd said and picking apart her argument. "You have a point about that strategy, though. I find it a little odd that they only have a few out here, ready and waiting, but they might have just been secure with their radar network and didn't think anyone would penetrate the airspace."

"Maybe you're right, but it all feels off." Naomi bit her lip nervously, not having enough room in her cockpit to really fidget with and calm her down. Squirming to adjust herself in the seat with limited mobility, she glanced warily out towards the cloud cover and the sunset. "I'd still keep an eye out just in case. That way if they've got another hand to play then we're ready for it."

Sky Keeper radioed them again, ending the discussion. "All aircraft, former President Harling's transport is ready to take off. Be ready to provide cover should they be in any danger. Mother Goose One, you are cleared to take off!"

"All right, Mother Goose One taking off!" The sound of the transport's whirring as it gained altitude muffled Johnson's voice. "Mr. Harling wants to extend his thanks to you beforehand." The aircraft appeared on radar, and Naomi was able to just barely make it out as it began to climb up, a visible dark spot with the elevator in the background. Further off in the distance, Gargoyle was returning from resupplying and refueling.

"Let's save that for when we're all home safe," Sky Keeper said. "Mage Squadron, Mother Goose One is heading south. Provide support for them."

"Wilco." Naomi and Clown both replied, splitting off from Golem and flanking Mother Goose One to act as escorts, ready to take out anything that tried to harm Harling. Naomi dared to think that everything would turn out exactly as planned, but no sooner did she think that than several unidentified blips appeared on the radar. She sighed. _I should have expected that. Damn those Eruseans_.

"Sky Keeper, bogeys on my radar!" Knocker shouted, alerting their AWACS of the arrival of the unknown, likely enemy aircraft approaching. "Bearing 220. Any idea what they are?"

Sky Keeper replied almost instantly. "Sighting confirmed as MQ-101, forerunner for the Arsenal Bird!"

"Ah, so the big bird is comin', huh?" Clown growled, inching closer to form a tight formation around Mother Goose One. "C'mon, Trigger, let's keep 'em off of their tail. Time to remind 'em that goose ain't in season right now." Naomi glanced at the transport, then back out at Golem Squadron as the broke off of the tail end and started to fly out to where the UAVs were.

"Mage, protect Mother Goose One and shoot down any UAVs that try and get close to them. Golem, intercept the UAVs! Shoot down as many as you can!" Sky Keeper barked out the orders. Naomi looked down at her radar, seeing the UAVs closing in fast. Golem was nearly close enough to engage with them, they just had a short ways to go.

"Golem 1, wilco," Knocker spoke through gritted teeth. "That last battle taught me a lot about those a-holes. Golem 2, Faun, don't stray off on me. Always maintain element, understand?"

"Wilco," Faun said. "Forming up! Boggard, Footpad, get over here!"

The frustration returned and Naomi's grip tightened around her control stick. Her index finger was hovering over the fire button. Why couldn't she go out there and help them fight? Instead, she was left with Harling's plane, escorting him out of the area. But Golem wouldn't be able to handle all of the UAVs on their own. She didn't want a repeat of Brownie's death. According to her radar, the UAVs were managing to slip through. Naomi grinned. "This is Mage 2. I'm breaking off to intercept UAVs approaching Mother Goose One."

"Roger that, Mage 2. Take them out." Sky Keeper told her firmly. Just as she said she was doing, she broke away from Mother Goose One and took off after the stray UAVs. They were fast, but she'd been held back enough to want to catch it. She had motivation to get it down. It zipped down, towards the ocean, then pulled abruptly out of its dive as Naomi followed it. Reacting fast, she executed a high-G turn and followed it up into the clouds. As it twisted about, evading her lock, Naomi tried to predict its movements. This was a challenge. At last she locked on. Not wanting to risk losing it, she wasted no time and pulled the trigger. The UAV attempted to evade the missile, but the first struck its target, slowing it down as the last one finished it off. "Trigger, enemy UAV down! Nice work, just be sure to keep it up."

"They're after me…damn…" Footpad broke away from the formation, trying to lose the drone on his tail. Relentless, the UAV pursued him, matching him move for move, not letting up on him. "I can't shake this guy! Trigger, I'm coming your way. See if you can get this bastard off my tail!" His plane banked to the left, away from the space elevator. Naomi hit the afterburners to meet him halfway. He shot past her, drone close on his tail. Naomi turned sharply so she was on the drone's tail. "I'm gonna dive and then climb. Get him when he pulls up after me!"

Naomi lowered her speed to get herself ready and avoid a collision. Footpad's nose dipped down and he started his dive, the drone following as expected. He flew above the surface of the water before he pulled up sharply. The UAV followed his every move, aware only of its target and not at all concerned with the position of any of Footpad's wingman. Naomi was at the ready and as the drone began its climb it put itself right in the crosshairs. She got the lock and fired, not daring to pull away out of fear that she'd lose her position and have to chase it down. It was too slow to react and the missiles hit right where they were intended. The drone was nothing more than a ball of flame and smoke falling to the water below.

"Yahoo! Nice job!" Footpad cheered, circling around and joining up on Naomi's wing. "Remind me to give you a high five when we get back to base!" Naomi grinned and gave him a thumbs up before the two split off from each other to take on a new enemy. Footpad joined up with Boggard and Gargoyle 3 to chase down one of the UAVs while Knocker and Faun were flying beside Gargoyle 2 and Gargoyle 4, each of them taking on their own enemy.

"Damn it, he got away!" Gargoyle 2 groaned. "Mage 2, take care of him for us!"

"The way they're acting is ridiculous," Naomi said as she turned towards the swarm that was mostly blocked by Golem and Gargoyle. Doing as she was told, she worked on picking off the strays that were slippery enough to get past the eight fighters and continue on their way to Harling and Johnson. "They're singling out Mother Goose One. It's like the only reason they're even bothering with us is because we're trying to stop them!" The drone was pulling evasive maneuvers as Naomi came up on it, trying to get to Clown and Mother Goose One rather than fight with her. It succeeded in escaping, two others coming to its aid to distract Naomi. "Shit! Mage 1, Mother Goose One! UAV incoming!"

"Mother Goose One! UAV on your tail, take evasive action!" Sky Keeper ordered. They were almost out of the combat zone, if they could just get a little farther. Clown was doing his best to protect them, but the drones were bound and determined to fire at Harling's aircraft.

"I hear you, but this isn't exactly a fighter." Johnson sounded out of breath. "I'm doing the best I can, here." Golem and Gargoyle Squadron had separated, losing most of their formation as more and more UAVs flew in. They began to swarm like vultures, forcing everyone to break off from one another and engage. Johnson sighed, "And just when things were starting to look better for us…not to worry, Mr. Harling. Everything's going to be just fine."

Naomi formed up with Clown, chasing the UAVs away from Mother Goose One and into the clouds as a distraction. Golem Squadron fought along the edge, the main defense for Mother Goose One. "Mage 1! Clown! There's too many of them out here…they're like wolves…" Naomi was starting to feel overwhelmed and flustered. Back and forth, up, down, left right. Memories from Chopinburg and of Brownie's demise began to creep up. She didn't even see Brownie go down…why was she affected like this? "Shit…I'm having difficulties focusing in this mess…"

"Trigger, just relax and worry about the here and the now," Knocker advised.

The clouds blocked her view of the others, but the radio chatter that went on proved they were still alive. Gargoyle Squadron sounded as if they were talking in some sort of code. "Gargoyle 3, where's the signal?" one of the pilots from Gargoyle asked their new leader. Naomi noticed that they weren't calling him Gargoyle 1, which she found odd. They'd already found someone new to fill the number three position in their flight, but still referred to him as 'three'? Naomi understood herself and her squadron mates as not used to it, but their own pilots? It was always likely they hadn't given up on their leader as quickly as the IUN had given up on Brownie.

"Gargoyle Squadron, stand by for my order," Gargoyle 3 said firmly. What order? What was going on? Naomi followed Clown and a pair of drones out of the clouds, no longer able to corral them there. Gargoyle Squadron wasn't participating in the battle any more. Where had they gone?

"But without the lighthouse…I mean the _harbor_, they won't be able to get home." Gargoyle 2 spoke hesitantly. What were they talking about? Naomi tried to get a look at Mother Goose One, on its way to safety, but the drones were like a flock of birds, nearly impossible to see through. Gargoyle Squadron on the other hand, was approaching, regrouped and not slowing down, perfectly visible even at a distance.

Someone from HQ bitterly responded to Gargoyle 2. "Don't worry about it. That ship isn't ours." What ship? Were they referring to the aircraft Harling and Johnson were on? No, they wouldn't call it that. They were stupid, but not that stupid. _I hope_.

"Mage 2, evade!" Clown shouted in her ear. Startled, Naomi became aware of a drone on her tail. Grunting, she rolled sharply off to the side, the UAV shooting past her, not expecting the change in direction. "Get your head outta the clouds, Trigger! Fight back or get yourself killed!" Cursing herself as Clown finished chewing her out, she took out the UAV that had been on her tail, then tried to eliminate some of the ones swarming around Mother Goose One and the elevator, dividing her time as best as she could.

HQ began to speak again, only to Gargoyle Squadron, not bothering to let their other allies in on whatever plan they had. Sky Keeper was being awfully silent as well. Did he know what was going on? Or what was about to go down. "Gargoyle, change radio frequency," came the order from headquarters. After that, Gargoyle's chatter ceased, leaving everyone mildly confused. No one dared speak up about it, since nothing had happened yet. It was probably nothing important, otherwise somebody would have told them.

"Mother Goose One, what's your status?" Knocker asked tiredly, giving away his exhaustion with his tone.

"This is Mother Goose One, here," Johnson replied quickly. "We're about to leave the airspace. Keep your fingers crossed." Naomi switched to special weapons as he said this and got close enough to take out the three drones chasing after the transport. Satisfied that they were safe for the time being, she turned back to the group and tried to keep them away from Mother Goose One like they'd been working on.

Suddenly, HQ and Gargoyle Squadron's voices returned to the radio. "Gargoyle, it's time," HQ said in a menacing way that sent chills down Naomi's spine. Tensing up, she continued to engage and looked around wildly every chance she got in order to try and get visual on Gargoyle again. She'd lost them…_Where'd they go? Damn it, what are you morons about to do?_

"Attention, Gargoyle Squadron. Babel. Babel. Babel." Gargoyle 3 shouted. The squadron emerged from the clouds in perfect formation, facing the elevator. "Gargoyle 3 to Babel!" Naomi wondered briefly who 'Babel' was supposed to be. She didn't have much time to wonder, because 'Babel' responded and Gargoyle opened fire on the swarm of UAVs. Not wanting to risk friendly fire, Naomi pushed down and slipped out and to the edge, away from the intended targets. All four planes fired at once, each missile hitting its target. As the drones exploded, one missile had nothing to hit except for the elevator in front of it.

Golem Squadron climbed to a higher altitude to regain their formation, followed closely by Clown and Naomi. "Sky Keeper! Do you want to tell me what the hell that was?" Knocker shouted, clearly sharing Naomi's confusion and annoyance at the lack of communication. "And is there anything else you don't want to give us a heads up about?"

"Gargoyle did their job, plain in simple," Sky Keeper replied flatly.

"I figured, but why weren't we informed about it, genius?!" Naomi could practically picture the anger on his face. Knocker was really pushing it with the authority lately, not that Naomi could really judge him on that end. She wasn't in the mood, but probably would have attempted to tear up Sky Keeper for withholding that info from them. There wasn't much they could do about it, unfortunately.

"It's simple." Clown stepped in to answer Knocker's question. "The IUN can't coordinate between branches, _as usual_. God, I don't even know why they bother having anybody running this shitshow anymore. No difference with or without someone calling the shots if you ask me."

"Gargoyle, report." HQ ordered.

"HQ, one hit was scored, the rest were intercepted by UAVs." Gargoyle 3 replied casually, almost disinterested. "The elevator's windbreak took a scratch, nothing more…" Then HQ simply went about like nothing happened, ordering them to continue maintaining air superiority. Not that they'd been helping much to begin with.

Naomi tensed again, her hand tightening around the control stick. One hit was scored? The elevator was the target? "What the hell, you sly, worthless bastards!" she spat and jerked her plane back towards the elevator, chasing down a drone to curb some of her anger at them. Naomi didn't plan on letting up on them. "We've been working to protect the president and reclaim this goddamn elevator and you dumbasses go and try and blow it up? God, and here I was thinking you were actually doing something useful for once!"

"Trigger, it's time to calm down!" Clown ordered, trying in vain to keep the situation from escalating.

Ignoring him, Naomi continued after the drone. She fired two missiles as soon as she got a lock, letting out a loud growl of frustration and anger as the drone dodged. She kept on its tail, refusing to let up on it or Gargoyle. "You're all — apparently — about as useful as your damn leader was over Chopinburg! You guys must like doing the Erusean's jobs for them, huh? Why don't you just shoot down the president while you're at it! I'm sure HQ wouldn't mind too much!"

"Trigger, that's enough!" Clown snarled at her, a hint of disbelief in his words. She ignored him, planning on saying more, but he refused to let her say another word as Gargoyle protested her outburst towards them. "Foulke, you need to shut your mouth before I send your ass back to base." That got her attention. She fired at the drone abruptly, the missile hitting it, but she was too shocked that Clown had used her real name. Or part of it. "Now...calm down and keep your thoughts to yourself until this mission is over and just focus on those goddamned UAVs, understand?" Naomi didn't respond, so he repeated it in a harsh, dark tone to get through her thick skull, "_Understand_?"

"Yes, sir…" Naomi murmured, relaxing her shoulders, feeling the tension all throughout her body to the point that it was affecting her flying. She had no choice but to shut up and fight back.

"Honestly, Turner. I thought you and Pierce would have straightened out your smart-mouthed rookies by now," a member of Gargoyle sneered. It was true, she had been way out of line, but Naomi wasn't allowed to retaliate no matter how badly she wanted to. She bit her tongue and continued to work, something she thought Gargoyle was incapable of. "Really. At least our squadron has respect for one another and our allies."

"Hey, why don't you assholes back off?" Knocker snapped. "We've dealt with it and she's not bothering you anymore, so can it already so we can focus on our jobs!" Naomi chuckled to herself as the Gargoyle pilots stopped talking to them after that. They all had more pressing matters to deal with, resuming their bobbing and weaving through the clouds after the UAVs that continued to swarm even after their significant losses.

"Mother Goose One has been hit!" Clown announced suddenly, taking down a UAV before he turned towards the aircraft as if to check on it.

"Colonel Johnson, respond!" Sky Keeper called. When no response came, he gave a deep breath. "Mage Squadron, assess the situation."

Clown broke away from the fighting and maneuvered around Mother Goose One to get a good look at the aircraft. "This is Mage 1, I have Mother Goose One in my sight. The cabin's fine, but the cockpit's not looking so good. I don't know how much longer we can keep going like this."

"Colonel Johnson, are you okay?" Sky Keeper asked calmly.

It was a decent wait before the colonel responded. When he did, it was obvious he was in considerable pain, "Don't worry about that…just send help this way…" He broke off, grunting in pain. "I'm sorry. Just get Mr. Harling out of here…please…" Johnson went silent after that. _Damn it. They were so close. They'll never make it with just Harling on board…all of this was pointless, just like I thought_. Naomi clenched her jaw, continuing with her orders to keep the drones away from Mother Goose One. Harling was still on board and had a small chance to survive. Maybe it wasn't all for naught.

"Mother Goose One, respond!" Sky Keeper raised his voice slightly. "Mother Goose One!"

"Sky Keeper, should we continue providing cover for Mother Goose One?" Clown asked, laying low and waiting before he jumped back into the battle.

Perhaps a little flustered and taken aback by the question, Sky Keeper replied, "Yes, of course! President Harling is still alive and we're going to do whatever we can to get him out of here. Colonel Johnson's effort will not be in vain." His words were bolder and far more determined than usual. Naomi admired that. If only she could feel as hopeful about their current situation as he did. The two squadrons continued to do their job, the tensions high. Sky Keeper spoke up again, "Wait…Mother Goose One is turning! What's going on?"

Naomi, who'd been chasing several drones in and out of the clouds, pulled out and turned towards the elevator in time to see Mother Goose One veering back towards the elevator. "What the hell…Sky Keeper, they're turning back for the elevator!" Naomi said. Nervously, she tried to get in contact with the transport. "Colonel Johnson…uh…Mr. Harling? Ugh...Mother Goose One, status!" Whoever was in control tried to respond, but the radio was far too staticky for anyone to make out what was being said.

"It's flying at a steady altitude. Any idea who's at the controls?" Clown asked.

"It's not the colonel," Sky Keeper answered. "Mr. Harling's the only one on board. He's piloting the craft. Mother Goose One respond!" Harling either couldn't reply or was ignoring the order. "Mr. Harling, please respond!" There was growing desperation in the AWACS voice as he tried in vain to get Harling to give them his status.

A transmission came from Mother Goose One. The static made it difficult to understand clearly, but it was the president's voice. "I…protect…elevator…relying…it." It made no sense, and Naomi tried to fill in the blanks caused by static, but to no avail. All she could understand was that Harling was going to try and protect the elevator. The 'relying' and 'it' part were difficult, but maybe it had something to do with what HQ mentioned to Gargoyle? And the spaceship Harling launched? Something strange was going on.

"We can't protect him if he decides to stick around here. Those UAVs are going to be on him like a pack of starving wolves on a deer!" Clown spat at this. Mother Goose One was heading directly for the elevator, pulling weak evasive maneuvers. There wasn't much he could really do with zero training in a slow, damaged aircraft. "This is all going to shit."

"My sentiments exactly." Naomi tried to keep the bitterness towards her previous scolding out of her voice.

"Now's not the time to freak out, fellas," Knocker told them. "We've still got a job to do, so let's do it! Keep your mind focused!" _There he goes, preaching about focus again. Easy for you to say, Knocker…_Naomi thought scornfully, but followed through anyways. The UAVs, as expected, began to swarm around Mother Goose One. Naomi and Clown hurried to the former president's aid, carefully aiming at the drones.

"Mr. Harling, we're not giving up on you! The UAVs are approaching Mother Goose One. Take them out now, Mage Squadron!" Sky Keeper ordered them.

"Let's go, Trigger," Clown said. "Get these bastards outta here!"

While Clown went farther out to get the ones approaching, Naomi spotted one directly on Mother Goose One's tail. She hurried after it, aiming as carefully as possible. Or so she thought. She got a lock. "Mother Goose One, turn 180 degrees and exit combat airspace!" Sky Keeper's order went ignored by the president. Naomi maintained her lock on the drone. She had a chance and she took it. Firing at the drone, she saw what she thought was another missile incoming out of the corner of her eye. Where'd that come from? "Trigger!"

Her missile hit the drone, or so she thought. But then why did Mother Goose One take the hit? "Mage 2!" Sky Keeper and Knocker's voices both echoed in her ear. It felt as if someone had just punched her in the stomach as she watched Mother Goose One slowly explode, losing altitude and falling to the ocean. _Oh my God, no…_Her eyes widened in disbelief. _That couldn't have been me. That wasn't me, I didn't kill him! Did I?_

She felt her entire body shaking and her eyes stinging and starting to get watery. Was she about to cry? It felt like it. This wasn't usual. She hated this. Had she not been as accurate as she thought? Had she fired to soon? Too late? It seemed impossible...

_What have I done?_

* * *

Author's Note: _I debated adding this in after having a note in the last chapter, but I'd just like to apologize again for taking so long to update. As I said in the last AN, real life can be a pain sometimes, but I blame my lack of motivation honestly._

_The next chapters are going to bring in some changes to the plot and my own deviation from canon. I was finally able to start playing the game for myself, and I'm loving it and have LOADS of ideas and inspiration. The next chapters shouldn't take as long for me to write, so expect another update soon!_

_Please let me know of any typos or screw ups that might have slipped through my editing. My apologies if wording became redundant as well.  
_


	6. Running Out Of Time

Chapter Five: Running Out Of Time

|…|…|…|

**Gunther Bay, Usea.**  
_**June 6th, 2019.**_  
**1947hrs.**

|…|…|…|

"Mage 2 fired that!" Gargoyle 3 and the rest of his squadron formed up beside Golem Squadron. Everyone seemed to be in shock from what they'd just witnessed. Naomi could hardly process it herself. What had happened? Had she just killed Harling? Gargoyle Squadron didn't seem too phased. It was almost as if they were expecting the mission to fail.

"It was Osean. A friendly missile hit them!" Gargoyle 4 spoke up.

"Verifying the situation," Sky Keeper said, sounding level-headed but concerned. "Stop speculating."

"Friendly fire!" Gargoyle 3 nearly yelled, only now sounding upset by the situation. "I saw it!"

"Mother Goose One exploded in air. No one could have survived…" Sky Keeper's voice was low and a mix between anger and grief. He didn't turn on Naomi like she'd been expecting. A great man, one he looked up to, had been killed and she was the prime suspect. But he was being fair about the situation.

Stunned and trying to regain herself, Naomi began to stutter, defending herself almost pointlessly. "Knocker…Clown…Sky Keeper…I—I swear I didn't kill him. I didn't try to…I was aiming for the drone on his tail...maybe he just got in the way of the missile?" She was starting to panic. If they thought she killed him…even she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't, even if it hadn't been on purpose. She didn't wake up that morning thinking about how she could kill Harling.

"It looks like it tried to protect the elevator…" Footpad observed.

Boggard spat, "Erusean bastards! They just killed a hero! It had to be them. There's no way Trigger would have done something like that!"

"Knocker, what do you say?" Faun asked.

Knocker let out a sigh at his wingmen's words and Naomi felt her mouth run dry. "Mage 1, was it Trigger?" He didn't want to believe that she was guilty of killing Harling in cold blood. At least she hoped he didn't. If it was in fact her missile, Harling hadn't been the intended target. Surely they'd let her off on account that it was an accident. Naomi began to wonder if Knocker would try and keep her out of trouble.

It was Clown's turn to sigh. With a moment's hesitation, he finally said, "...Trigger was the closest. As far as I know, nobody else on our side was near enough to make that shot." Naomi lowered her head, staring down at her hand and controls. That was the nail in the coffin right there. He was giving a report, just as he was told, and all evidence pointed at her being guilty. "UAVs were crawling all over our objective and —"

"I told you to keep a goddamn eye on the hatchling!" Knocker interrupted him. "You're lucky we didn't lose her today, but now she's got an ally's blood on her hands!" Naomi couldn't help but flinch at his words.

"It must have been a mistake." Clown was trying to keep his cool, unlike the rest of them it would seem. Naomi trusted him enough to know he was on her side. Boggard and Footpad didn't seem convinced she was guilty, either. Knocker didn't reply to Clown after that, but maybe he was as unsure as the rest of them were. Then again, all of the evidence they had pointed at her being the criminal mastermind.

In the distance, emerging from the clouds, a massive, sleek white figure was approaching. It was the Arsenal Bird, the craft that had deployed the drones that caused all of this chaos. "Arsenal Bird is entering! All aircraft, withdraw immediately!" Sky Keeper ordered. The three squadrons wasted no time breaking off from each other and making a break for the return line. As Gargoyle left the area and Golem and Mage were by themselves, Sky Keeper said to Naomi, "Trigger, you can't fly for a while. You understand why."

Her heart sank but she said nothing in response. There was no point in arguing with them. They knew what was best, after all, and nothing she could say in her defense would change their minds. The flight to the nearest base to refuel and resupply for the trip back to their own base was long and silent. Gargoyle Squadron had already made it back and was waiting for them, and judging from the glares she received from the ground crew tending to her plane, they'd spread the news around.

* * *

**Fort Grays Island, East of Usea.**  
_**June 6th, 2019.**_  
**2230hrs.**

It was late at night when they finally landed at Fort Grays. Naomi hurriedly got herself freed from the cockpit once she had landed and they brought the ladder over for her to climb down. Fumbling with all of the straps and belts that kept her in the ejection seat, it took her a while to get loose. The pent up frustration, anger, and exhaustion made the task more difficult than it needed to be and once she was loose, she practically sprang out of her seat.

Now standing on her own, the blood rushed to her head and caused her to feel light headed for a moment. Her head was throbbing and she felt as if she was going to throw up. Either throw up or scream. She wanted to do both, but neither were reasonable options. Trying to keep it together, she shakily made her way over to her squadron mates, all five of them waiting for her just outside the hangar. The ground crew said nothing to her as she passed them, simply going about their jobs.

Boggard noticed her coming and glanced at the others. When she reached them, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder in a side hug, and offered a comforting smile. Naomi barely looked at him, keeping her eyes downcast, focused on the pavement. Knocker and Clown simply stared at her, Clown's expression almost sympathetic in contrast to the blank one that Knocker was wearing. Footpad and Faun exchanged a look with Boggard. For a few seconds nobody said a word. They just looked at one another until Naomi finally sighed and broke the silence. "What's going to happen now?"

"According to Sky Keeper and the Base Commander, there's going to be an inquiry," Knocker replied. He ran a hand through his hair before crossing his arms. "It will probably all end with you being court-martialed. They'll be gathering up what evidence we have tonight and sending it to the top brass in Oured. Until then, you're going to be grounded."

Naomi looked over her shoulder longingly at the hangar as they finished moving her plane inside and began closing the doors. The light from inside began to get dimmer and dimmer until the doors shut completely and them locked it up so no one could interrupt. "They don't want anyone watching them, do they?" she asked, tilting her head slightly before turning back around and lowering her head again. She could barely keep her eyes open. "Am I confined to quarters or just barred from flying?"

"Just grounded, for now. The base commander did say you aren't allowed near the hangars, though." Clown told her. No explanation as to why the base commander wouldn't allow it, but it answered her question well enough. He stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "Come with me. Let's get something to eat." As he started to lead her away, back towards the main building, Knocker simply watched, his expression unreadable and his arms remaining crossed. He nodded to his wingmen and they began to follow after Clown and Naomi.

The trip was almost as tense and quiet as the flight home had been, except it was more awkward and she could hear Boggard and Faun muttering back and forth about something, with Footpad trying to start a conversation up a few times and failing each time. When they did finally reach the mess hall, they opened the door to find that the room was dark and empty. Moonlight managed to make it's way through the windows, but was barely enough to see the outlines of the table.

Clown flipped the switch on and, like all the other lights around the base, it took a few seconds for it to react. When it did, a buzzing sound that Naomi had never noticed before could be heard. It was similar to the one in the hangar, if not the slightest bit fainter. With the headache Naomi could feel coming on, it was just as bad. Like needles pushing into her skull, starting at her forehead and traveling down her neck.

"They left some stuff out for the night shift, but there isn't any reason why they can't share," Clown said to the four of them as he ventured further into the mess hall. He looked back at them when they hesitated. "Relax and take a seat. Nobody's gonna hurt ya." Boggard and Faun led the way over to a table while Clown entered the kitchen to get something to put the food on. Naomi attempted to go with him to give him a hand, but he put a hand up to stop her. "I've got this taken care of. Go sit with the others and calm down."

With her shoulders and head hung low, she joined her friends without saying a word. Taking a seat beside Faun, she noticed that he was eyeing Clown as he stepped into the kitchen. He waited a few minutes before he turned back to them and began a conversation, his voice low so that no one but the four of them could hear. "Something isn't sitting right about this whole ordeal. The higher-ups are being too vague and there's no way they're going to let Trigger off easy, but Knocker and Clown seem awfully confident that things are going to work out."

"I don't know what you're trying to get at, Faun," Footpad said, tapping his finger on the table in a steady rhythm, clearly as bored and tired as the others. "She said she was aiming for a drone on Harling's tail, but all the evidence points to her aiming at Harling. The IUN was having a hard time coordinating everything and it was all going to hell anyways. There's no telling who actually fired the missile. If there was just the slightest possibility that Trigger did it — even on accident — the military will waste no time using her as a scapegoat." Naomi said nothing, not caring to join in because of the direction it was likely to take.

"I thought you were on our side! You can't honestly believe it was her, Footpad." Boggard glared at Footpad, who stopped his tapping and returned the look in silence. As if looking to start an argument, Boggard challenged, "You must have seen the whole thing and you obviously don't care about what happens to her, so why don't you march right up to the base commander's office and tell them that Trigger did it? After all, the military is probably going to use her as a scapegoat anyways, so what does it matter if she's actually guilty."

"You're wrong, Boggard." Naomi saw Footpad visibly tense, bristling as he took on a defensive tone. "It _does_ matter if she's actually guilty, and I _do_ care about what happens, and I have no idea what went down out there because, unlike you, I was focusing on keeping the UAVs off of Mother Goose One. Maybe if you'd taken them down faster, a drone wouldn't have gotten that close to Mother Goose One and Trigger wouldn't have fired on it in the first place! But no, you were off twiddling your thumbs while the rest of us did our jobs!"

The two of them stood up to face one another just as Clown returned, but Naomi was quicker to react than her flight leader was and shoved herself between them. "Drop it, you two!" she snapped at them. They noticed Clown marching over with a tray and didn't try to move around her. "We're all exhausted, we're all stressed, and we're all angry about Harling's death. I appreciate the concern, but if you two bring it up again while we eat, I'll…I'll…" She pressed a hand against her head, trying to think properly through the growing migraine.

Clown stepped in for her, setting his tray down and motioning for her to sit down. He took her place between Boggard and Footpad, glaring at Faun, who simply threw his hands up and put on an innocent look. "Fightin' about all this isn't gonna help with the accusation still standing," he pointed out to them, speaking in a stern voice to make sure they were listening and understood that he wasn't messing around. "Now why don't we all just settle down before this gets out of hand? I agree with Trigger. I don't want to hear another word about this damn mess the rest of the night. Bring it up again and I report you to Knocker and you can all stay on the ground with Trigger. Understood?"

Both of them mumbled 'yes sir' and sat back down, this time with Boggard sitting next to Naomi and Footpad sitting next to Faun. It seemed like the best way to keep them from strangling one another. Since nobody was in the mood to carry out a discussion after that, too upset to say anything nice to one another, they all listened to Clown telling them the stories of his time as a rookie pilot and what his first mission had been like, how great his squadron leader had been, how much he learned in such a short time, and so on and so forth.

He managed to go through seven rather lengthy stories before they all were ready to get back to their quarters and officially call it a night. Naomi forced herself back on her feet and unsteadily made her way out of the mess hall and to her quarters. When she got to the hallway, she stayed close to the wall so she could lean on it for support, practically dragging herself along for a good five minutes before she reached her quarters.

Once inside, she slammed the door shut behind her and collapsed on her bed. At first she fought sleep, not wanting to go to bed, but in the end she lost and gave in, closing her eyes.

* * *

_**June 7th, 2019.**_  
**0320hrs.**

Naomi tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. A good two hours had gone by since she'd fell asleep, but she'd had a disturbing dream that had interrupted her sleep, and now she was finding it hard to fall back asleep. Outside, a thunderstorm had started up, giving the base another heavy rainfall and causing enough wind and pattering to keep anyone awake. The thunder was off in the distance, but still audible, the flashes of lightning coming few and far between.

Throwing the covers off, she walked over to the window and parted the blinds enough for her to see through. The rain on the window distorted her visibility, but she could see that the hangar was open and the lights were on. Naomi wondered if they were planning on sending Golem out later in the morning, or if they were just getting normal repairs and checks done, like they usually did.

Outside her door, in the hallway, a couple of muffled conversations could be heard as people left to go to their shift or came back after finishing. Most of them sounded as if they were coming from the mess hall, likely having finished their breakfast. The late dinner that Naomi and the others ate was enough to satisfy her for a few hours, and the thought of food brought back the sick feeling she felt before she'd gone to bed. Her headache was still there, too.

Deciding that she wasn't going to get back to sleep, she turned on the light and walked over to her desk, taking a seat and pulling out her phone. She plugged it into the charger and pressed the power button, putting in her code to unlock it. There weren't any messages or emails. Her father must have told the rest of the family how busy she would be. Naomi looked up from her phone, staring at a framed photo of her and her family sitting on the desk. Looking back to her phone, she thought about what Knocker and Clown had told her.

She'd probably be court-martialed. As Footpad had pointed out, the military was likely planning to use her as a scapegoat. There wasn't any other explanation they could use, really. What could they say? That they were sorry they were incompetent in their job and weren't able to keep their cool under pressure? That wouldn't work out well for them. No, they had to cover their own asses and they knew Naomi had a record of no hesitation in battle. She was an easy cover-up and she hated it. Her entire family had become well known and respected within the military and now she was going to be the one to screw everything up.

As much as she didn't want her family to know about what was going on, particularly her rather overprotective mother, she had the feeling that the news would bring it up sooner or later and they'd see it then. Although she wanted to handle this on her own and not run to her parents for help, she knew that her father had connections with several people in the air force, specifically the Osean air force. Perhaps he could find her someone who could at least keep her out of prison. She didn't want to feel completely useless.

Opening her contacts, she scrolled to her father's name, her thumb hovering over it as she debated pressing it. He typically vanished around this time of the year. As soon as June came along, he would take a trip out to visit his old buddies from the war and he'd be completely unreachable by the sixth of the month up until about the tenth. It was weird, but she figured it had something to do with the time that Belka nuked themselves. Her father was born and raised in Belka, and he fought against his own country during the Belkan War. It was as if he took time for a vigil or something. She didn't want to interrupt him or anything, but she needed his help. Some advice at the very least would be nice.

Naomi sighed and tapped the 'call' button, holding it up to her ear as it rang. For a while, she thought he wasn't going to pick up, then the ringing stopped and she heard her father's voice on the other end. It was hoarse and deep, as if he'd just woke up. The words were breathed out and he sounded annoyed, "_Naomi, it's the middle of the night. Do you mind telling me what the hell's going on?_"

"Dad…" Naomi took a deep breath. "I could use your help."

* * *

_**June 7th, 2019.**_  
**0600hrs.**

Knocker stepped into the base commander's office, finding the commander sitting at his desk, looking over some files. The colonel looked up as Knocker entered the office, and just by seeing the look on his face Knocker got the feeling that nothing good was going to come the meeting. "Is this about Trigger?" he asked and the commander nodded in reply. "And I take it that she's…going to be found guilty?"

The base commander tossed the file across the desk for Knocker to read. "All the evidence is right there. Lieutenant Foulke fired on the president's aircraft. There isn't any doubt about it," he said as if it was the most casual conversation he'd ever been in. Knocker approached the desk, examining the file, rather dubious of it himself. He knew how Trigger got her name and he knew she was a good shot, but he could never picture her assassinating anyone. The colonel picked up on this and put on a small smile. "You seem to think otherwise."

"Yeah, I do," Knocker snapped, flipping through the file before dropping it onto the desk. "This is bullshit and you know it. It's the IUN's fault for failing to communicate and recklessly handling the situation. It's a damn miracle we all made it out of there alive!" This got no response, other than the colonel's lips tightening and forming a thin line. Evidently Knocker had hit a nerve with that one. Not difficult to do. Knowing it was going to be difficult to change the commander's mind about whether or not Trigger had killed Harling, Knocker simply asked, "So what's going to happen to her?"

"Don't sound so worried. She'll be sent to Oured to stand a fair trial just like a normal citizen would be," he replied, waving his hand dismissively. He did that

Knocker snorted in disbelief. "How can it be fair when you're unwilling to believe she's anything but guilty?"

"I don't need to 'believe' anything, Captain. The evidence speaks for itself." The commander gestured towards the file, clearly trying to keep his cool. Knocker crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, still unconvinced by the 'evidence' presented before him. The base commander went on, "I've been making a few calls to try and get this mess cleaned up with as soon as possible. There's a transport plane flying in from Osea to take Lieutenant Foulke back to the capital for her trial. They're also bringing in a few extra pilots and crew. They should be arriving sometime tomorrow morning, so I'd suggest you get all of your goodbyes done."

"That's it, then? You're getting rid of her just like that?" Knocker frowned as the colonel nodded. He looked down, clenching his fists. It seemed that he was doing that a lot lately. "Understood…I guess it's good that we're getting a few replacements, but…I'd like the reports on the new pilots." He turned around to leave, not caring to wait to be dismissed. "I just want you to know, it's going to be hard finding someone good enough to fill Trigger's spot."

He was sure to slam the door behind him as hard as he could, ignoring the looks from a few startled bystanders in the hallway. Knocker wasn't entirely sure where he was going as he set off down the hallway. "Maybe I'll just walk until I cool off…" he said to himself, checking his watch. He had plenty of time to kill, anyways, so he might as well. He was planning on taking Golem Squadron up for a little practice around 0900. It was easy, they had time to get ready, and it gave the mechanics some extra time to finish their work.

It wasn't going to be a terribly scenic walk, though. Once again, the rainy season assaulted them with heavy rainfall and dark clouds. It was downright annoying, but at least the lightning and wind had ebbed away earlier that morning, which made it safer for them to fly in at least. Knocker continued on his way, turning down every hallway he could. It gave him the opportunity to think about everything that had happened, even if he was stuck inside.

Trigger had always struck him as being a little reckless. She was stubborn, short-tempered, and almost mercilessly took out the enemy. Her flying style had come to rival his own, as much as he hated admitting it. Clown had seen the potential she had and recommended her, and while Knocker didn't regret the decision, he always had the fear that she'd eventually get in trouble.

He had been doing everything he could to ensure that she benefited the squadron, even telling Clown to keep a close eye on her and make sure she never pushed too far. Maybe it was his fault for not watching her himself. He took his eyes of Brownie and she got hunted down. Now, he had taken his eyes of Trigger and her career was going to come to an end. Knocker was strict on his wingmen, but he did care about them and they were placed under his responsibility. Once again, the only person to blame was himself.

Knocker thought back to the day that the five of them arrived at Fort Grays. Brownie and Trigger were grinning so hard when they stepped off the transport plane. He was convinced they'd be the troublemakers of the bunch, and maybe he hadn't been entirely wrong. God, they were just kids in his eyes, too young to be let off of their leash and definitely too young to have to fight in a war. They knew what they signed up for. They wanted to fly and they wanted to fight. But wasn't it Knocker's job to make sure they all got back safely?

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. What he needed at that moment was some fresh air, just to clear his head. Knocker changed direction and made for the front door of the building. There was a slim area where one could avoid getting soaked by the rain if they were careful, but still enjoy the outdoors. Plus, it had a perfect view of the hangars and the runway. Reaching the door, he pushed it open and stepped outside. A warm breeze greeted him, plus the familiar scent of wet earth. It was relaxing and more therapeutic than he'd expected.

"You needed the fresh air too, eh?" the familiar voice of Clown startled him from his thoughts. He flinched slightly, then looked in the direction of the sound. Clown was walking towards him with a warm smile, Trigger beside him, looking tired and depressed. She barely greeted him as they approached, her hands shoved into the pockets of her raincoat. Clown stopped a few feet away from Knocker. Looking between his two companions, the older pilot huffed, "Cheerful place. Really. I'd love to know what all the smiles are about around here."

Knocker scowled, unimpressed by Clown's sarcasm. "Hilarious," he said blandly, looking up at the clouds that continued to pelt the base with rain. "If you really want to know, I just spoke with the base commander. It was about Trigger's case." Trigger perked up at this, a hopeful spark in her bloodshot eyes. He tried to keep a neutral expression, nearly wincing at her excitement, knowing he'd have to ruin it. "They looked over her HUD and…well…"

Trigger eagerly questioned him as he hesitated, either not able to or not wanting to pick up on the obvious answer. "What did they say? It proves I didn't hit Harling, right?"

"Trigger, you might want to rein in your excitement." Clown had already figured it out, but it seemed that in Trigger's current state she was being overly optimistic. Her flight leader put a hand on her shoulder in hopes of calming her down "I…don't think it's good news, kid." Her shoulders went back to their previous position, sagging and making her appear smaller than she actually was. A look of realization spread across her face.

_Just suck it up and tell her, Knocker. She's an adult and she can handle it for Christ's sake_. "They're going to be sending you to Oured for your trial. The transport's expected sometime tomorrow morning," he said at last, sounding as confident as he could. Knocker was their leader, and if he fell apart so did everyone else. They looked to him for guidance, and Trigger was especially going to be looking to him. "I'm going to try and convince the commander to let me go as well, just to ensure you get a fair trial, but beyond that, there isn't much else I can do for you. I'm sorry, Trigger."

Knocker saw her tense up and jerk her head up, almost in defiance. The spark he'd seen previously was back, but it wasn't hope. This was anger. What did he expect, really? "There's nothing fair about this entire situation and you both know it! They want too badly to lock someone up and lay the blame on someone instead of admitting it was their fault to begin with!" Trigger kicked at the ground, pulling something out of her pocket.

It was a medium-sized pocket knife, which she opened up and tossed into the ground, grunting with frustration as she did. The blade landed in the mud with a _splat_, sticking up out of the ground. She marched over to it, pulled it out, leaned against the wall and began to repeat the process, each throw getting less and less aggressive. Her voice was softer when she spoke again, having apparently gotten her anger our. "There isn't going to be any justice and you know it. My career is coming to an abrupt halt. I'll be dishonorably discharged and sentenced for life, probably." Her expression softened and the last time she threw her knife, she didn't move to pick it up. "I apologize for yelling. I don't blame either of you…I know you've done all you can."

Clown crossed his arms, looking thoughtful. "Actually, Trigger, maybe we haven't done everything. I'll have to make some calls, but there might be a trick or two up our sleeves that can help you out." He gave her a quick pat on the shoulder and turned to Knocker. "If you don't mind coming with me, then you and I've got some work to do, Captain."

Knocker followed him, furrowing his brow suspiciously. "What have you got planned?" he asked as Clown led him inside.

"Let's just say, there's some people who owe me a couple of favors." Clown simply grinned and winked at him. Knocker wasn't entirely sure he wanted to go along with this, but if it would help Trigger then maybe it was worth the risk. He was keeping his fingers crossed, though. There was no telling if these so-called 'favors' were going to go anywhere, or if it would be a dead end for them. If that was the case, Trigger was out of luck. And she was already running out of time.


	7. Old Friends, New Allies

Chapter Six: Old Friends, New Allies

|…|…|…|

**Fort Grays Island, East of Usea**  
_**June 7th, 2019.**_  
**1300hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Clown picked up the receiver on the old rotary dial telephone, staring down at the numbers and going over his choices of who to call. Back in 2010, when he'd served during the last war, he'd met a young journalist fellow that was enthusiastic about his assignment to the Sand Island Air Force Base. More importantly, the man showed an interest in the Wardog Squadron. Clown kept track of him after the war and the two had remained good friends.

The thing about this journalist fellow, was that he was good at two very important things. One of them was keeping an important secret to himself or a close circle of friends. The second was that he took the investigative part of his job very seriously. If you needed something, chances are, he'd go as far as he could to find it for you without setting off a single alarm bell with the higher-ups. The kid had contacts and he knew how to use them.

What Clown needed right now was someone who could slip in and get him some information. He also needed someone with significant influence in the military, and his first thought for that were the former Wardog pilots. Now they were known as the 'Ghosts of Razgriz', but very few people knew who the people behind the emblem were. It was mostly questions that the public presented in regards to these pilots, questions that wouldn't be answered until 2020. However, there were a few in the military and government that Harling had granted the information to years ago, which meant that the former pilots received the utmost respect from the OADF and many of the government officials and staff at Bright Hill.

"Well, what's this grand idea you had, Clown?" Knocker asked impatiently. Clown blinked for a moment. He'd forgotten he brought Knocker with him, which could potentially complicate things. "In case you haven't noticed, we're running out of time. _Trigger_ is running out of time. The calls you made earlier were dead ends, so what have you got planned now?"

Clown looked up at Knocker, setting the receiver down to give his hand a rest. "Just give me some time, Knocker," he said. "We haven't got a lot of it, but I know more than three people who can help us and who are easier to reach. They also have more to bring to the table, if you ask me."

"Really?" Knocker crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Who are they, then?"

"You remember _The Four Wings of Sand Island_? The article written by this one reporter that followed the squadron throughout the Circum-Pacific War?" Clown asked. Knocker gave a nod in reply. "Well it just so happens that I'm good friends with him and…some other people related to the squadron. You see, Harling awarded this journalist and all involved with the squadron with a pretty sweet status in the government when the war was over. They have influence almost everywhere, including in the courts. And that's how we're going to help Trigger."

Knocker frowned, forever holding the title of a doubter. "I hope you're right. But what makes you think that they're willing to help you?"

"Just a hunch. They're always looking for a way to lend someone a hand these days." Clown grabbed the receiver again and began to dial the number. It rang a couple of times before someone picked up. He recognized the voice that said 'hello' instantly. "Blaze," was his greeting to the person on the other end. "Long time no see. I was wondering if we could talk about somethin'. It's important."

* * *

Naomi continued to toss her pocket knife at the ground, jealously and longingly watching her friends take off and fly above the island for training. She wished she could join them, but nobody would let her get anywhere close to the hangars. She wasn't even allowed to look over her plane, to see how badly it might have been damaged in the fight and the ground crew no longer trusted her. When she told her father about all of this early in the morning, he'd simply told her to hang in there and that he'd try and get some help from some friends of his as soon as he could.

It seemed everybody knew somebody that could help her, but whether or not they'd actually agree to do so was a completely different story. Right now it seemed like she was as useless as she could possibly get, sitting back and letting everyone else fight her battles for her. But what could she do? Nobody was willing to hear her side of the story, save for her friends and family, but what could they actually do? Even Clown admitted that she was the only one close enough to have shot Harling. The whole situation was so infuriating.

The knife fell to the ground as she lost focus, no longer landing with the handle sticking up and the blade in the ground. Just her luck. She seemed rather 'lucky', now didn't she? Considered a prodigy in flight school, she made her way on luck alone, able to remember small details and learn from simply observing. She was good at taking what someone else showed her and putting her own twist on it. Somehow this made her out to be a good pilot. And then on her first flight during combat, she kept her cool and took care of the bombers. It was luck. All of it, wasn't it? And all that luck had to run out eventually. Unfortunately, it chose the worst time.

"Everything I've worked for this whole time…everything I've ever wanted…" Naomi grumbled to herself as she cleaned the mud off of her knife, the jet engines overhead roaring as if to boast of their position in the skies. Maybe she was just being dramatic. "My entire life is going to shit, now. I had a plan, dammit!" Talking to herself relieved very little anger. In fact, it probably only succeeded in making it worse. She sighed, regaining herself. No point in getting worked up over it, even if it did seem like her entire life was unraveling before her and there was little she could do about it.

Folding the pocket knife, she slipped it into her pocket and stepped back inside, no longer wanting to waste time by watching Golem Squadron faking dogfights. Things were going to be changing, like it or not, and she didn't have any control in the matter. She needed to accept this and learn from it, learn to adapt. "If you were able to make it this far, you can make it the rest of the way," she said to herself as she stepped back inside. That was something she learned on her own a long time ago. "You've got people looking out for you and your life isn't over, just…on standby. Time to grow up and suck it up..."

* * *

**Oured, Osea.**  
_**June 9th, 2019.**_  
**1100hrs.**

Albert Genette was a very patient man. Being an investigative reporter, it pretty much came with the job. However, sometimes the opportunities that presented themselves were either too good to wait for or too awful to be forced to sit and wait through. Still, when he received several phone calls that day from three old friends of his, he found that he was unable to resist the idea of a break from work to catch up and he also found that the suspense was killing him. He was currently waiting for two of them in Oured Park, hoping to take them out for brunch, and he'd been sitting at the bench by the fountain as patiently as he could, trying not to explode with excitement.

Unfortunately, his friends were taking their sweet time. He'd met them during perhaps his most memorable assignment, during the last war when he got wrapped up in conspiracy theories involving Belka and watched a squadron of rookies that loss their leader go on to join the top aces of the world as they disappeared as heroes. In fact, his 'old friends' had been a part of that squadron. Genette couldn't help but find the memories were beginning to grow bittersweet for him, seeming so close and so vivid and yet so far away.

Among the flags that flew around the fountain in the park, the most cherished was a greenish colored flag with the Razgriz Squadron emblem on it. Former President Harling had ordered the flag be added to the park's collection as a tribute to the squadron that protected him and Osea, saving the day and vanishing as the morning came. No one currently in office at Bright Hill dared take the flag down, as the citizens of Oured cherished it, even more so now that Harling had been killed.

The reports were unclear as to how it happened other than a missile striking the transport craft he was on board as it went back the way it came, towards the space elevator. Many people were in despair as they asked where the Razgriz was and why they didn't care about Osea anymore. That was a lie and Genette knew that for a fact. Rumors were floating around that the IUN was planning on bringing down the space elevator in the midst of their rescue operations and that Harling had turned back to the elevator to protect it. That was what Genette believed.

He looked up at the sky, the dark blue unblocked by any clouds and unmarred by any war. The elevator had been built to preserve this everlasting peace and someone from Razgriz was on an important mission and relied on the elevator to get home. It was her only way back and if it went down, well, he didn't want to think about that. Nagase had been…an important person to him, to say the least, and she was due to come home from a seven year mission into space any day now. Harling had to have been protecting the elevator, just so she'd make it back. He still had the squadron's wellbeing at heart, even all those years later.

"Genette!" Hearing someone call his name rattled him from his thoughts. He looked for the source and spotted none other than the leader of the Razgriz in the flesh, approaching beside one of her wingman and a man that Genette didn't recognize. He smiled, standing up to greet them. Funny enough, neither pilots looked as if they'd be the ruthless killers that The Ghosts of Razgriz were thought to be. Blaze, as he knew her, was one of the most reserved and thoughtful people he knew, save for Nagase, perhaps. And then there was Grimm, Blaze's best friend, former wingman, and husband, who was easily anxious and as polite as they came. Not exactly what you'd expect from two ruthless fighter pilots, but they were menacing enough whenever they needed to be.

"What took the two of you so long?" Genette asked, the two pilots embracing him in a friendly group hug as soon as they got close enough. As they drew apart, he eyed the older man standing over by the fountain, watching the three of them curiously and cautiously. He had short, light brown hair and a tall, broad-shouldered and slim build. At a glance, Genette would have guessed he was in his late forties or early fifties. He seemed content with going unnoticed for the time being, allowing the old friends to catch up, not at all bothered by his exclusion from the reunion.

"As you could probably guess, it was hell getting a flight down here on such short notice and getting out of the airport in a timely manner," Blaze explained, brushing a strand of dark brown hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. Genette noticed she was sporting a longer haircut than he was used to seeing her with. "I think everyone's trying to get away from the major military bases in case Erusea launches another attack. The traffic out of Oured and Aurick is insane right now."

"Can you really blame them, though?" Grimm asked, raising an eyebrow. "Erusea's efficiency with their drones is going to be hard to beat, and even if they aren't targeting civilians, would you want to live anywhere near a military installation that the enemy's got in their crosshairs?" Blaze nodded in agreement, not saying anything, though. Grimm had a good point, but Genette trusted the two of them to help as much as they could with the war instead of running like everyone else seemed to be doing. Grimm then added, "I personally think it's smart to have a place to go. After all, it doesn't seem like this war is going to come to a quick end."

"_I'm_ supposed to be the realist, Grimm," Blaze said with a frown, giving his shoulder a light shove. "You're the optimist. Don't give up on me now." He gave a half smile at this, but said nothing else. Blaze sighed and began a conversation, "So, Genette, how's everything been? I heard from Pops that OBC and GAZE are fighting over you. He said you'd be able to tell me more about it."

"Yeah, things have been great aside from that. The OBC wants me to cover the politics going on behind the scenes between Erusea and Osea, whereas GAZE wants me to write an article on Harling. They keep offering me more and more money, but honestly, I want nothing to do with either of them right now." Genette replied, fidgeting with the hem of his vest as he spoke. "What about with all of you? Have you spoken with Bartlett or Snow recently?"

"The two of us are doing fine, overall. As for the others, Snow's been busy with his work lately. We invited him to come along while we were here, but he's out of town right now," Grimm answered, taking a look at his surroundings while he spoke. His eyes lingered on the Razgriz flag before he turned back to Genette. "Bartlett and Nastasya are on vacation in Yuktobania, but he called us a few days after he got word about the war. He suggested we all keep a low profile until the war blows over."

"I still don't think that means we can sit by and do nothing," Blaze put in. She shoved her hands into her pockets and frowned. "Especially now, with Harling dead. I feel like if we were there we could have stopped it."

"It was for the best that we left the air force," Grimm told her softly, placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "They didn't need us anymore. There wasn't any need for us. The next generation deserves a chance to fly, too. As Pops once said, it's their time to shine. Besides, I doubt we could have stopped what happened to the president." Blaze's frown didn't fade, but she gave her husband a grateful look. Harling had done a lot for them, and Genette knew that Blaze considered herself in some sort of debt with Harling. After all, he gave her hope. More importantly, he gave the world hope.

Genette took the moment of silence to change the topic. "So, who's your friend?" he asked, nodding towards the gentlemen they'd brought along. The man had gone on to take a short walk around the fountain area of the park, looking up to observe the flags and the birds that stopped flying and perched on the flagpoles occasionally. "I thought it would just be the two of you."

"Oh, I feel awful for forgetting!" Blaze pressed her hand to her forehead, almost smacking herself as a punishment for her forgetfulness. "Follow me, I'll introduce you to him. He's part of the reason why we came here." As they approached the man, he looked up expectantly and curiously. Blaze grinned as they drew close enough to speak with one another and greeted the man, "Pixy, this is Genette. He's the journalist I told you about, remember?"

Pixy, as the man was called, looked to Genette for a moment, simply observing him. He gave a small smile and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Genette. Kathryn's told me a lot about you. Same with Hans, here. They tell me you've got spunk." Genette took his hand, giving him a firm handshake and a mildly embarrassed smile in return. Pixy…where had he heard that name before? It took a moment before it hit him.

"You're Larry Foulke!" Genette released his hand and tried to contain his shock. "I can't believe it took me so long to recognize you!" His mentor and inspiration, Brett Thompson, had an interview with a man named Solo Wing Pixy many years ago. Genette had studied the film itself, paying attention to how Brett constructed the interviews and his writing style. Although Brett had very little influence over Genette's style now that he'd 'grown up' as it were, he still remembered the interviews. In fact, just a few days prior the documentary had been aired on OBC.

"I was hoping that everyone would forget about me over time," Pixy said, his face flushing ever so slightly. He quickly made sure to push down his embarrassment and the rosy color faded from his cheeks almost as soon as it appeared.

"They never forgot about Cipher," Blaze reminded him, patting him on the back. "I don't think they'd be forgetting about his most rememberable wingman anytime soon. Especially not when they air the documentary three times a year." He scowled at this, giving her a stern glare. She crossed her arms at this. "Relax already, Pixy. Dad said you'd be fine as long as you kept a low profile. Remember why you wanted to come in the first place." Blaze turned back to Genette. "Now, the important question comes. Genette, did you get a call from Clown?"

Clown had been Blaze's WSO during the last war, flying with them in the F-14s that Wardog, and later Razgriz, used. He was younger then, a few years younger than Bartlett was, and he was one of the funniest guys on the base. He got along well with the resident motormouth and jokester, Chopper, who had actually given him the nickname that he'd held onto for all those years. Unlike the other pilots, Clown wasn't as well known, so he and the other WSOs were allowed to continue their lives, not ever being listed as KIA like Blaze and her squadron had been. After the war, he went to Heierlark for some retraining and became a pilot. Before a few days ago, the last Genette heard from him was in the summer of 2018, when he told them he'd been transferred to the IUN's Peacekeeping Force.

Genette blinked for a moment, processing the question, a little taken aback after being mildly starstruck. "Uh, yeah. He called me a few days ago. He said that a pilot in his squadron was in some trouble and he wanted to meet with me when he got in Oured. He said he'd call me back, but I haven't heard from him since."

"He told us basically the same thing," Blaze replied. "He gave me some extra info, though. Apparently, and the media doesn't know about this yet, but I have a feeling Perrault or someone is going to tip them off, but the pilot in trouble allegedly killed Harling." Genette stared at her, making sure that his 'you can't be serious' face was easily identified. He'd heard a few rumors that someone in the IUN had killed him, but many believed it was an entire squadron and others believed it was a cover up of some sort.

"That's where I come in." Pixy's tone had changed from lighthearted to dead serious, as had his expression. "The pilot they're accusing of killing Harling is my daughter. I was hoping that you would be of help and it seems that Clown had the same idea, considering that a few of the higher-ups in the Osean military and government are aware of your status. At least, the ones that Harling trusted with the information are well aware."

"There's only so much we can do," Grimm put in, speaking mostly to Pixy when he said this. "But a talk with Perrault and maybe a few other people might give her a chance. First, we're planning on meeting with the…ahem…accused — for lack of a better word — and her flight lead tomorrow. That is…if you're interested in what role you would play, Genette. We could spend the day talking it over. Feeling up to it?"

Genette thought for a moment. He was interested, sensing a brand new opportunity to uncover a few war secrets. And he could avoid annoying calls from OBC and GAZE and other employers all offering him ridiculously boring story propositions. This way he was self-employed, possibly pitching whatever he wrote to a company sooner or later, after the war. Besides, who was better fit to cover Harling's death and speak with the supposed criminal mastermind. Maybe his imagination was running ahead of him, but he was able to smell a good adventure and story a million miles away. "Let's talk it over at the restaurant. I think you guys are gonna love the place I picked out, if you haven't already been before."

The four of them started out of the park, the early afternoon sun climbing higher as they went.

* * *

_**June 10th, 2019.**_  
**0800hrs.**

Naomi flexed her wrists, moving her hands in an attempt to make the cuffs sit more comfortably on her skin. She'd been sitting on the transport plane for hours, waiting for them to come and get her, only having a few angry guards for company. Clown and Knocker had asked if they could fly as an escort and then they'd come back with the new pilots, one of which would be taking Naomi's place in Mage Squadron, the others moving on to replace the loss of Skeleton Squadron. The base commander had, shockingly, agreed to it, provided that the rest of Golem Squadron stayed behind on high alert. They hadn't been pleased by that.

Since they'd have to fly directly through Erusean territory in order to cut the travel time as short as they could, the transport landed at as many allied bases as they possibly could, often stopping for a few hours to rest and get a break. Naomi was stuck on the plane, handcuffed and treated like she was rabid or something. Clown and Knocker were often the ones bringing her food and water, which she found hard to appreciate if she was being honest. The sounds of explosions and battles nearby had her set on edge and she felt much safer once they were in the air, even if she wasn't a fan of being a passenger and not at the controls.

The one thing she wanted at that point was a shower and a change of clothes. Civilian clothes would have been fantastic, but unfortunately, she was stuck wearing her flight suit. Knocker had explained before they left Fort Grays that she'd be allowed to clean up and wear her dress uniform for her trial, but that was little comfort. Nevertheless, she was sticking by her desire to grow up and suck it up. She felt like everything was falling apart, but she wasn't planning on falling with it. Maybe that was how she'd managed to sit through the entire journey without arguing or complaining to her superiors.

She assumed that once they arrived in Oured she could finally have a break. But apparently there was paperwork that needed to be filled out before they could release her into her new, temporary 'room'. It wasn't as simple as just throwing her in a cell and tossing the key, though Naomi was convinced that's what they wanted to do. Instead, they kept her trapped on a stuffy plane in long sleeves in the summer with temperatures climbing into the eighties. At least she had a nice, somewhat refreshing bottle of water. It tasted like someone left it outside in the sun on the beach all day, but it was as good as she could get.

At last she heard the metallic thumping of footsteps as someone made their way up the ramp. Both she and the guards turned to acknowledge the person entering the aircraft, squinting against the light from outside. Clown came into view before long, greeting the guards with a nod. "We'll take it from here, boys. Your boss says to take a break," he drawled, crossing his arms to stare down at them.

The guards exchanged hesitant looks with one another, briefly glancing Naomi's way. One of them finally spoke up. "We can't just leave a criminal, sir," he said, shifting his hold on his weapon, which he'd had at the ready. "Not without someone to replace us. It isn't that we don't trust you, either, we just don't trust her." He gestured to Naomi and she scowled as she let out a harrumph at being talked about as if she wasn't sitting right there. "I'm afraid we'll have to accompany you until we're officially relieved."

"Whatever you say," Clown replied with a shrug, acting with indifference. He turned to Naomi and gave a cheeky grin, "Guess our prison break'll have to wait, eh Trigger? Well, come along anyway." The guards shot him a disapproving look as he helped Naomi to her feet, leading the way outside. The two of them fell in behind her, giving her an extra shove forward to hurry up. Clown stopped at the end of the ramp and waited for them. Naomi squinted as her eyes painfully adjusted to the light, while Clown placed a hand on her shoulder to guide her the rest of the way.

He led her over to Knocker, who was waiting beside two unfamiliar guards, likely the ones there to relieve the others and take over their position. Knocker nodded her a greeting, putting on a rare, friendly smile as he said, "We're going to be making a little detour before you head to your cell. I talked with the warden and he said it was alright if you had a few visitors beforehand."

"Visitors?" Naomi asked, one of the first things she'd said that day. It was strange to hear her own voice after keeping her mouth shut for the entire morning. Clearing her throat, she went on with her questions, "Who are they? Why are they here so early in the morning? Nobody that I'm familiar with knows that I was sent here." She was trying to figure out on her own who would be visiting, but after three rough days and two rough nights it was difficult to think straight.

"You'll just have to wait and see who they are. Long story short, they _should_ be able to help you," Knocker said simply as they started their walk towards a hangar where a jeep bearing the OADF insignia was waiting to drive them to the prison. Naomi noticed that both Knocker and Clown were trying to keep serious expressions, Knocker being especially tense whereas Clown seemed more relaxed and at ease. Confident as opposed to the threatening vibe Knocker was giving off.

As they approached the jeep, one guard sat in the driver's seat, putting Knocker in the passenger seat. Naomi sat in the middle in the back, between Clown and the other Guard. The hangar doors were open enough for Naomi to clearly see inside and as the jeep lurched forward, driving away from the airfield, she caught a glimpse of a sleek, shiny gray plane. An F-22 if her memory served her correctly. She felt a pang of jealousy towards whatever pilot got to fly such a stunning bird, knowing she'd probably never get the chance.

The drive to the prison wasn't incredibly short, but the scenery made up for it. Since the base was located on the outskirts of Oured, along the coast, there were plenty of trees surrounding the area and varied wildlife. All along the way Naomi noticed a herd of deer grazing in a nearby clearing, a fox prodding along the side of the road with what looked like a dead snake dangling from its jaws, and an osprey perched atop the wired fence, taking flight over to a pine tree as soon as the jeep made its loud, smelly approach. Before long, the trees began to thin out and the jeep slowed its approach, making a turn into the base's prison, which resided beside a large field bordering the forest.

There was a massive parking lot, the secure, multi-story building that — without a doubt — had different levels based on the severity of the crime, and several guarded, barbed wire fenced yards for exercise and recreation. Even with all that, there was still plenty of room left over to give the local animal inhabitants a place to roam. _Awfully thoughtful of them_, Naomi thought. The car slowed to a stop into it's parking spot and she was ushered out, leaving little time to enjoy the scenery now that they weren't zooming past it.

In just a few minutes, without a word to one another, they had reached the front door. Once inside the building, they showed the paperwork to a soldier at a front desk, who looked it over with a scowl, skimming it. He set it on the countertop when he was finished and glared at Naomi before he rose from his seat. "Follow me," he said coldly as he made his way over to a locked door. It had a scanner and after he passed his ID over it, the scanner beeped and it unlocked the door. "Just so we're clear, no physical contact with the visitors. Captain Turner, Captain Pierce, I got a call from the colonel. I'm leaving you two in charge of Lieutenant Foulke at the request of the major. The guards will be just outside if you need them."

"Understood," Clown replied, followed by a mumbled agreement from Knocker.

Naomi looked between the two of them, perplexed by the exchange and the vague choice in wording on behalf of the soldier leading them down the long hallway. It was difficult to imagine it housing a prison, what with the clean walls and floor and the bright, almost cheerful lights. It reminded her more of a hospital than anything. They finally stopped by a door, a sign beside it read '_Visitation Area_' followed by 'Authorized personnel only'. The guard unlocked it and Clown and Knocker stepped aside, with the former holding out his arm towards the now accessible room, "Ladies first. Just get comfortable. We'll be in shortly."

Hesitantly, she stepped towards the door, the cuffs rattling as she moved. The guard opened the door and ushered her inside, shutting it quickly behind her. The click of the shutting door echoed and for a moment Naomi thought she was alone. All of the light was coming from a natural source, let in by windows that were lined up just below the ceiling, and once again she had to get used to the change in light. It was really getting annoying.

After a quick look around, she finally noticed the visitors waiting on her. They looked up and all of them stood in silence for a moment. There were four of them, three men and a woman, all standing around one of the tables in the room. The woman looked barely taller than Naomi and was wearing an OADF dress uniform. Her lawyer perhaps? Two of the others had a more questionable reason for being there. The man standing closest to the woman was lanky with short, reddish-brown hair, and he dressed more casually with an old flight jacket bearing an emblem from a squadron Naomi was unfamiliar with. The man on the opposite side of the table appeared older, with facial hair and a mature, serious quality about him.

The only person that Naomi recognized from the group was the last one. There was no mistaking the eyes and hair the same color as her own, nor the honest, friendly smile that he put on as soon as he saw her. He was her father. He actually came. "Dad!" Naomi began to tear up, finding herself unable contain the pent up emotions, though she tried her best not to get too sappy. She hadn't actually seen him since flight school and although they talked often, it just didn't compare to the real thing. Ignoring the guards warnings of 'no physical contact' she tried an awkward run across the room, nearly crashing into her father's chest. The breath was knocked out of him, but he regained his balance and wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

It wasn't actually much of a hug on her part, what with the handcuffs preventing her from returning the embrace, but just like he did when she was much younger, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight. The exhaustion and stress began to ebb away and as childish as she felt in the moment, she also felt safe. Her father had said he'd get her some help, but she hadn't been expecting to actually get to see him. She pulled away, still having to look up at her father to look him in the eyes. Biting back a few tears, mostly of joy, she managed to make a rather dumb observation, "You…you came all the way from Aurick."

"Of course I did." He spoke as if the answer was obvious. As if she should have known he'd been there, waiting for her with one of his hugs, comforting smile, and some fatherly advice. "I know I taught you not to let them take you down without a fight. I said I'd help you with that and that's what I'm here to do." He placed a hand on her back and turned her towards the three strangers and pointed each one out to her. "This is Kathryn, Hans, and Genette. Kathryn and Hans fought in the last war. They were good friend's of Harling. So was Genette."

"Oh." Naomi couldn't help feeling as if they'd show some sort of bias towards her because of this. It seemed all of Harling's supporters believed Naomi had killed him, some less than others perhaps. But close friends of Harling might have similar, more peaceful views than he did. She said to the three of Harling's friends the only thing she could, "I'm sorry about your loss. I…well…if I did hit him, I can assure you that it was an accident. I'd never want to kill someone like that."

The woman, Kathryn, exchanged a curious look with Hans. Genette on the other hand kept a poker face. Naomi guessed that Kathryn and Hans were close, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to point out that they were wearing matching bands on their ring fingers. She found herself a little suspicious of the two of them, considering her father really only knew suspicious characters. He rarely let her meet them, but she'd seen photos of his buddy from the Belkan War. Come to think of it, Kathryn and that man bore similar features. The green eyes and oval face were the easiest to recognize.

"We're not here to grill you or anything like that, Naomi," Kathryn assured her, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it on the back of one of the chairs. "We're just here to meet you and get your side of the story." Naomi stared at her blankly. It was difficult to believe anyone was willing to hear her side of the story, or even believe it for that matter. But she couldn't ask any questions before the door opened and Clown and Knocker entered. Kathryn seemed to recognize Clown, as they quickly greeted each other with a friendly hug.

Naomi glanced at her father for answers, but he just chuckled and shrugged it off. Of course he'd leave it a mystery. Hell, he _was_ a mystery. She watched the conversation between her flight lead and the strange major that she just met. "Blaze! It's good to see you!" Clown let out a hearty laugh as they drew apart from the hug. He greeted Hans and Genette with a firm handshake. "How have you kids been? Last time I actually saw you was…oh, about two years ago. God, I feel old, now." Naomi noticed that Knocker looked just as confused and uncomfortable as she felt.

Genette joined the conversation and the four of them began to catch up, with Knocker slowly making his way over to Naomi and her father. He greeted her dad with a hand shake and a brief exchange of names before he placed a hand on Naomi's shoulder. "I'd say there's a lot we don't know about that guy and a lot he'll probably never tell us," Knocker said to her. "But next time you get the opportunity, you should thank Clown. He's the one who got you all these new allies."

"I never knew he had so many…well, friends, honestly. I probably am going to end up with a pretty serious debt to him." Naomi shook her head. Although she didn't want to interrupt the reunion, she also wanted the cuffs off of her hands and a place to take a nap, which meant the visitation time could go by a little faster. She was also interested in finding out how the three new friends, that her father and Clown somehow knew, were going to help her. She brought both hands up, raising one slightly higher as if she had a question during a class. Naomi cleared her throat to get their attention and then awkwardly smiled. "Umm…I really hate to interrupt, but how can any of you get me out of what's looking like a life sentence?"

There was a pause as they all looked from one to the other, figuring out who was going to be leading the explanation of their master plan. It was Genette who finally decided to speak up, "We can't get you out of punishment entirely, but we know who to talk to in order to get you a…well, a more promising sentence. On top of that, I'm somewhat of an investigator, so I'll be looking into your case and connecting the dots that the military either missed or chose to ignore. Blaze and Grimm on the other hand—" he gestured to Kathryn and Hans, "—have a few connections with a few people in the OADF. If they talk to the right people, they can get a say in the ruling."

"That seems a little odd." Naomi furrowed her brow, choosing to be more skeptical than usual. No point in getting her hopes up for nothing. She took a seat and placed her hands in her lap. "I've got some questions for all of you before I know if I'm able to trust you. Just who are you guys anyways? How does Clown know all of you? Why does my dad know you? Why should I trust you?"

"Take it easy, kid," Kathryn chuckled, her companions showing equal amusement. "This isn't an interrogation. Now, I'll try my best to answer your questions. I can't tell you much about us and who we are, but I can tell you that I was in the last war. My squadron flew F-14s. As you know, they're two-seater aircraft and Clown sat in the back seat of my plane. That's how we all know him. I know your father because he's a good friend of my father and Grimm's uncle. And lastly, you should trust us because we've been in the same situation as you have."

Naomi tilted her head to the side. "Really? You were accused of murdering a former president and sent to prison? You've had to worry about facing a trial that's going to make or break everything you've been working for?"

"No," Hans answered this time. "We've been accused of a crime we didn't commit, though." Naomi clenched her jaw, awaiting the story that was likely to follow. She wanted to hear their explanation, and her suspicion was already beginning to ebb away. Hans continued, "During the last war, our former flight leader was accused of being a spy. Since he trained us, we were all regarded with suspicion. One morning the base commander pulled a gun on us and we had no choice but to run. A pilot from the first Kestrel intercepted us and allowed us to bail out before he shot our planes into the ocean. The world believes that we're dead, now, or nothing more than a legend or a squadron of ghosts."

Listening to the story, Naomi's eyes widened and she looked up at them, glancing from Kathryn and Hans to Clown as she began to remember something she'd read a few years back in high school. The emblem on Hans's jacket was the Wardog emblem…the Wardog were believed to have been killed in action…they were nicknamed the 'Demons of Razgriz' and when they were 'killed' they earned a new title among allies and enemies alike. How could she have missed that when she walked in?

She stood up, taking a step towards them as the pieces all came together right before her. Only one, simple statement was able to escape through her shock, "You're the Ghosts of Razgriz."

"That's right, and they're on your side." Clown was grinning again. "You're luck is changing, Trigger. You've got yourself a few new friends and they're going to help you as much as they can."


	8. Trial By Fire

Chapter Seven: Trial By Fire

|…|…|…|

**Oured, Osea.**  
_**June 15th, 2019.**_  
**1400hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Naomi wasn't entirely sure what she thought about her new 'friends'. On one hand, she'd admired the Razgriz's flying ability when she learned about the Circum-Pacific War in school and they'd watched a documentary on it. Osea wasted no time in updating the history books after the war, so high school had actually interesting things to learn about, in her opinion. However, they seemed so used to secrecy, likely due to them being forced the build their lives around a lie to protect themselves, and it made Naomi question them and their whereabouts while they were off trying to help her.

After just a few days, she started seeing less of Kathryn and Genette. Hans visited with her father just to keep her mind off of her upcoming trial and what would likely be the verdict. According to the attorney they'd provided her with, they were likely looking at a dishonorable discharge and a life sentence. No surprise there, but the other option was even more unpleasant. A possible death penalty was also placed on the table. After that, her father typically told her stories of his own time during war, with Hans telling a story or two as well, just to get her to worry about something else besides possibly dying for something she didn't do.

Clown and Knocker still came by as well, not sparing her from the bad news. They told it all like it was, with some reassurance thrown in. Clown was helping Genette and Kathryn track down some people to get a couple of alternatives, but he wasn't saying what it was. Her trial was starting in a day, and they'd give them at least three days to prove her innocence or give a reason as to why she shouldn't be discharged. Usually, a general court-martial would have taken much longer, but they were at war and were determined to get it over and done with so they could move on with their lives and get on with more pressing matters.

Overall, her time in this temporary prison wasn't too bad. There were only a few other female prisoners there, and they were all in on minor infractions, so Naomi spent her nights in a cell by herself. At breakfast time, the women and men were separated at tables and they would eat their food in silence. Naomi never got included on the conversation, and any attempt to join was met by them simply ignoring her, so she gave up trying to make friends on the second day she was there. After lunch they were allowed an hour of exercise in the yard or gym with time to show after and then visitation hours started and ran until 1700. The guards were friendlier than she expected and a lot of the other prisoners only refused to associate with her because they thought she was a murderer.

The highlight of her day was actually visitation, even if it did involve a bit more stress than she'd have liked. Though spending some time with a punching bag in the gym wasn't too bad, either. They gave her a surprising amount of freedom. Sure, a guard was watching them at all times, paying extra close attention to anything Naomi did, but they didn't treat her badly and nobody tried to rough her up or get fresh with her. It probably had something to do with the fact that she stayed on her best behavior. She didn't think she had a rebellious streak and she wasn't starting one now that her life and career was hanging by a thread.

As visitation began, she was taken out of the gym by the guards and taken downstairs for visitation. Since Clown and Knocker and Hans and her dad had been taking turns visiting each day, she was expecting her commanding officers when she was cuffed to one of the tables and left to wait, but she was surprised when Kathryn and Genette entered the room. She narrowed her eyes, then leaned back in her seat to get as comfortable as she could. "I figured the two of you would still be on your wild goose chase," Naomi said as they sat down at the table, right across from her. "No offense, I don't exactly have a lot of faith this will work."

"Well, maybe we can fill you in on some information that'll change your mind," Kathryn replied with a smile. She turned to Genette, "I'll let you take it from here."

Genette nodded and turned back to Naomi. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and set it on the table before he began his explanation. "We got some information from General Perrault and a couple of other people in the top brass and as promised we found an alternative to the other outcomes of your trial. It's not glamorous by any means and it might be a challenge to adjust to, but it'll keep you in the air and give you a way to redeem yourself. In a way. You'll still be serving Osea, at least."

Naomi eyed the paper curiously, but she couldn't exactly reach forward and open it. "Well…I'll take anything at this point. Just what kind of place are you talking about, here?" Kathryn hesitated, unfolding the paper and sliding it forward so she could read it. There were notes that Genette had apparently taken for reference, and after skimming over them, Naomi found herself slightly worried. "You're kidding me, right? I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but that sounds like a shitty alternative. I might as well just be dishonorably discharged and locked away."

"It's not the best one the OADF has got, but unfortunately, this is the only penal unit that's requested new pilots." Kathryn explained calmly, giving the paper back to Genette once Naomi was finished with it. "Zapland is a secure place for the most part, but the Erusean's have been bombing them more and more lately. Tyler Island has a stronger squadron and most of the pilots are more experienced than the ones at the 444th. At the start of the month they lost two of their pilots in the last run and their base commander sent in a request for some replacements. The squadron was thrown together on a whim, but Perrault was surprisingly willing to give us a look at the roster and it looks…well…unique."

"I'm not exactly looking for 'unique'," Naomi sighed. "But really, what other choices do I have? Is there any way you could convince them to go this route?"

"Yes, actually," Genette replied. "It's not exactly a sure-fire way to sway them in that direction, but if during your trial we can convince the judge that they could still use your capabilities in war and to carry out missions, then we might be able to send you to the 444th. It isn't going to be a walk in the park if we manage it, and the penal units are usually used to reform the prisoners as well as to send them off to fight, so I'd start preparing myself for a pretty strict leadership in case we succeed."

"Does my dad know about this? What about Knocker or Clown?" Naomi asked. She didn't have a lot of questions. Really, she was just happy they'd found a solution, even if it wasn't the best option in the world. If it worked, it would still keep her in the air and defending her home.

"We went over it with them this morning before we came out here," Kathryn said with a nod. "Knocker and your father aren't exactly thrilled with the idea, but they want to help in any way they can. This was the only idea we could come up with, and while none of us are fans of the penal units and using prisoners as pawns, we don't really have any other tricks up our sleeves." Naomi watched as the older woman pressed her fingers to her temple, looking tired. "I just hope this works. We may not know you that well, but I'd hate to see you punished for something you didn't do."

At first, Naomi wanted to challenge her. She was being punished for something she didn't do, it would just be in a different way. She'd still be able to fly if everything worked out, but she was still a prisoner. But she didn't want to argue, or ruin any chances of them helping her, so all she did was nod. There wasn't anything else she could do. Having no control over the situation was extremely frustrating. "Yeah, I hope it works, too."

* * *

_**June 15th, 2019.**_  
**2100hrs.**

Pixy sighed as he leaned forward against the balcony railing. The reporter friend of Kathryn's, the guy they called Genette, had a pretty spacious apartment and was able to house all of them. He had his own room, with Kathryn and Hans sharing a room, and Pixy in the third room. Pixy wasn't one to lie to himself and how he felt or believed, and honestly, he was beginning to feel overwhelmed with everything going on. It was great that he got to spend time with everyone, and he was still happy he was able to see his daughter, now, even if he'd have preferred the visit to be under better circumstances.

The trip he'd taken to Aurick had been a lot of fun. That's where he got the idea to help Naomi out from. His old buddy, Cipher, had invited him and his family up to visit several times before and he figured that with their annual 'vigil', as the rest of their family called it, he could go up there with the remainder of his family. Naomi had an obvious reason for not tagging along, and her older brother, Roland, was rarely around to go places with them anymore, so it was just him, his wife, and his eldest child and her husband and kids.

He had to admit, it was almost surreal being a grandfather when he was just barely fifty-two. That's what he got for being a reckless eighteen-year-old, married and with kids by the time he was twenty, with what little support he had insisting that the relationship would never work out. Somehow it did, even with his constant refusal to let a family tie him down. Roland and Samantha had an interesting childhood to say the least, growing up with mercenaries for their family, but they were never incredibly close to him. But he and Naomi, even though she was born many years after her siblings, always shared some sort of…understanding of one another.

It wasn't as if Naomi was some carbon-copy of himself, quite the contrary, considering her patriotism for Osea and the fact that she had little to no issues with borders. No, she betrayed him there, even if he had learned a thing or two on his travels to gain a more open mind. But she had inherited a lot of other things from him, such as a love for the sky and a passion for flying. The short-temper and excessive stubbornness were a few others, not to mention irritability. While it seemed she'd only picked up on his bad traits, her mother had once commented that they were both fiercely loyal. Pixy didn't buy that one, considering his betrayal of Cipher.

Naomi did have some passionate sense of loyalty, but it wasn't something influenced by him. It was perhaps one of her greater qualities as well as her greatest downfall. She didn't handle the loss of a friend very well, whether the friend in question had broken off their friendship or passed away. Throughout her life, up until the start of the war, she'd been lucky enough to only ever lose pets to death. From everything she and her CO had told him about the war, it seemed she wasn't taking her friend's death very well. The trial had been enough to take her mind off of it, it would seem.

Pixy looked out at the city, having a nice view of it from Genette's balcony. You could just barely make out the bay in the distance, the view of the massive Oured bridge obscured by fog and moonlight. Under normal circumstances, it might have been relaxing, but he found himself scanning the skies for any signs of drones. There was something off about that. Were they controlled by humans elsewhere, or were they all A.I.? If the latter of the two was the correct answer, then were they capable of making their own decisions, of going against the program set out before them, or did they even have one to follow to begin with?

He was convinced that Naomi had been framed, all the proof they needed right in front of them. Advancing technology to the point that they had near human intelligence, perhaps greater intelligence, in fact, was a bad idea. Had the Erusean's planned Harling's death the whole time, or were their drones simply ordered to shoot down anything that moved? Pixy groaned with frustration and ran a hand through his hair. All these questions and concerns, all racing through his head and giving him a strange spike in anxiety and adrenaline.

"I'm getting too old for this shit…" he muttered to himself, closing his eyes for just a moment. He wasn't exactly as young as he used to be. Sure, he still enjoyed a good adventure and hated being tied down in one place for too long, but if he were to climb into the cockpit of his beloved F-15 ever again and try and pull the same stunts he used to, chances are he'd be coming back without a wing again. Or without both. And 'No Wing Pixy' didn't have the same ring to it.

The sound of the sliding glass door opening caused him to briefly open his eyes and glance away from the night sky, but only long enough to register that he wasn't alone outside any longer. Someone approached, silently, joining him as he continued to lean on the railing. It was Knocker, a man Naomi spoke rather highly of during their conversations. Although he and Clown were staying on base for the time being, they were visiting at Genette's apartment so they could all catch up. Pixy found some comfort in knowing that he wasn't the only odd one out.

The two of them sat in uncomfortable silence, Pixy content to keep enjoying the view and Knocker having a difficult time not talking to someone, it would have seemed. Knocker nervously rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat. Nervously, he tried to start a conversation, "Decided to get some fresh air and take a break from everyone else?"

"Not really." Pixy shrugged. "I just wanted to think about a few things, collect all of my thoughts and all that. With Naomi's trial coming up tomorrow, I want to be prepared for the worst case scenario."

"Yeah, me too." Knocker scoffed, but whether it was for himself or for the situation in general, Pixy wasn't sure of. "Maybe some part of me wants to be as optimistic as Clown and the others, but I'm too much of a realist for that. The chances that the judge is going to let her off that easy are practically non-existent."

"Glad I'm not the only one that thinks that," Pixy replied. He took a deep breath. "Believe me, I want Naomi to get out of this scot-free, more than anything, honestly. But we all need to take a practical look at things. The plan in itself isn't bad, in fact, I've got my fingers crossed that it might still work, but they need to prepare themselves for the fact that their efforts might be in vain."

Knocker took a moment to respond, a thoughtful look on his face. "I can tell you really care about your daughter. I'm sorry there wasn't more I could do. Believe me, with Clown and his friends running around finding a solution, I feel pretty useless. Never was one to offer good moral support, either."

Pixy chuckled. "Whatever happens, I won't hold it against you. Naomi trusts you. In fact, even though she complained about how strict you are a time or two, I can tell she looks up to you. You've done as much as you can, I suppose. Hey, how do you think I feel? I'm just an old man who wishes the world would forget about him and move on already." He sighed, catching the glimpse of the few stars visible through the urban glow. "Hell, if anything, I partly blame myself for it."

"What do you mean?" Knocker raised an eyebrow, perhaps taken aback by the comment.

"Well, she knows I was a mercenary a long time ago. I fought in the Belkan War as a pilot, but after my…defeat at the end of the Belkan War I decided to get a different perspective on things and served on the ground for a while. When Naomi was about six or seven, I fought in the final stages of the Usean Continental War. When I got back, she had become sort of a history buff and after learning about the Belkan War and Cipher, all she wanted to do was be a pilot," Pixy explained. "Then I had the bright idea of telling her my own side of that story. Her brother and I also told her a bit about Mobius 1. I even took her to the base where A World With No Boundaries had kept all our planes, letting her sit in the cockpit of my own plane."

"I wouldn't blame yourself, really. It seems like she'd have found a way to fly whether you encouraged it or not. Sounds to me like the two of you had a pretty close relationship, though." Knocker commented.

"Yeah, we did. We still do, actually. But I feel like if I hadn't told her all of my 'secrets' and shown her old footage of my flying then maybe she'd be seen as less reckless and trigger happy," Pixy told him. "I'm probably giving myself too much credit, but I've seen how she flies once or twice before and I've noticed a lot of my own maneuvers that she either learned how to replicate or learned how to perform and then build on them, adapting them into her own style. I'm also worried that having a mixed heritage that includes Belkan isn't going to help anyone give her the benefit of the doubt."

"Well, blood isn't something anyone can help, so I wouldn't say that it's your fault if they show a bias just because she's part Belkan." Knocker gave his best shot at reassuring comment. He paused for a moment, awkwardly chuckling after a moment. "Honestly, I kinda blame myself, too. I should have kept a closer eye on her. Then I could have seen whether or not she had killed the president."

"Maybe it's neither of our faults and we should stop feeling sorry for ourselves, eh?" Pixy asked, trying to lighten the mood by grinning, but he wasn't being too serious with what he'd said. Knocker gave a short laugh and eventually they both fell into silence again. "Well, I guess I should probably get some sleep. There isn't much I'm able to do tomorrow except offer moral support, but I still don't think Naomi would want me falling asleep during the trial." He moved away from the edge of the balcony, giving Knocker a firm, friendly pat on the back. "Safe trip back to base. Hopefully we'll get to have more conversations under better circumstances."

"Goodnight," Knocker said to Pixy's shoulder as he departed, opening up the sliding glass door and stepping inside.

The others were all sitting in the living room, each enjoying their own drink of choice. Genette seemed to have just brought them said drinks, as Pixy heard him remind Kathryn and Clown to take it easy on the beer so they weren't hungover the next morning. They both informed him they were just having the one drink and that was it. Hans perked up as Pixy tried to discreetly head to his room and cut the ongoing conversation off as he asked, "Is everything alright, Mr. Foulke?"

Pixy sighed, giving a small nod in response. "I'm just tired, that's all," he said. Hans nodded, saying nothing to this. "You kids shouldn't stay up too late, y'know. We all have to get up early." He knew very well that he sounded like their dad, even if he wasn't, but after raising three extremely rebellious kids, he couldn't help but try and lay down some law and order once in a while. Mentally, he smacked himself in the face for it, but none of them seemed bothered. They almost seemed amused by it.

"Don't worry, Pixy," Kathryn said, chuckling as she spoke. "We'll be in bed within the hour, that way Clown and Knocker can get back at a reasonable time." He nodded in response, remaining where he was for just a moment before he entered the kitchen to get a quick drink of water, still able to hear the others conversation perfectly. Genette had an open concept kitchen, which meant you got a perfect view of everyone in either the living room or dining room and were able to hear what they were saying with no difficulty.

"Even if we didn't get to bed until later, we've all functioned a little over a day on about two hours of sleep," Clown remarked, starting the conversation up once again, as if Pixy hadn't interrupted at all. "Remember the last night on Sand Island? My God, that was horrible!"

There were murmurs of agreement, but Hans crossed his arms, but the good natured gleam in his eyes took away any sort of aggression he might have been trying to convey. "At least you didn't have to fly into a dark tunnel and evade cranes and boxes that you didn't know were there until you nearly crashed into them," Hans retorted. Pixy smiled at the younger pilot's complaint as he took a sip of his water.

"No, instead we had to try and trust you nuts not to get us both killed," Genette answered, and the group laughed. It wasn't a loud laugh, but more of an appreciative one. Pixy figured that they were fond of their memories during the war, even if it hadn't brought anything but chaos in its duration. Genette waited for the laughter to die out before he added, "At least you didn't have a 68 pound dog in your lap."

"Would you have rather flown the plane, then?" Kathryn asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking at her friend.

"No." Genette replied simply. "I've had my fill of flying, thanks."

Pixy shook his head and chuckled softly, rinsing his glass out and setting it beside the sink. He called out a 'goodnight' to everyone before turning down the hallway and making his way to his room. As he shut his bedroom door and turned on the lamp, he began to think through a few things. The first being that since Genette wasn't a big fan of flying, maybe he could help Pixy out on the ground, snooping around to gather some information. Hans and Kathryn could probably scrounge up some planes to use, too. He was scheming, but he'd need to know the verdict on Naomi's trial before he could take the next step.

Something was off both in the Erusean and Osean military, at least, that's how it seemed to Pixy. The Osean chain of command had somehow been infiltrated. It might have been a conspiracy theory and far from the best conclusion to jump to, but it made sense to him. Erusea currently seemed to be one step ahead of all of the IUN's movements. They'd managed to get the jump on the president on the very day he'd gone to inspect the space elevator. It's possible it was just coincidence, but why wait that long to capture the elevator? They already had more than one advantage at the start of the war.

Somebody was leaking information, possibly more than just one person. And somebody _was_ guilty for Harling's death. But it wasn't Naomi. Pixy sat down on his bed, hanging his head and letting out an almost defeated sigh. But he didn't have any way of proving it. What was he going to do? Waltz into the room and tell the judge that he had a hunch? No, he needed more than that. He wasn't going to just up and abandon his daughter, but as soon as the trial was over, he was leaving for Usea. Cipher and everyone else would understand. Whatever it took to get to the bottom of this and get what the military refused to do finished and over with.

He just needed a cover. Pixy glanced over at the dresser where he'd set up his laptop and left his phone. He wasn't big on using technology, and with the possibility that Erusea had people that were especially skilled with computers — and therefore could easily hack into a computer and see what he was doing — gave computers and smartphones even less appeal to him. Feeling sleep beginning to take its hold on his body, Pixy kicked off his boots and leaned back onto the bed, closing his eyes. He could plan in the morning, once he was fully rested and able to think straight.

* * *

**Oured, Osea.**  
_**June 16th, 2019.**_  
**0600hrs.**

Naomi nervously paced back and forth in her cell, the hushed conversations between the guards sparking some curiosity that was replaced by frustration when she wasn't able to find out what was going on. They came by and woke her up at 0300 and had her get ready in that hour, allowing her to shower and collect her dress uniform. Then they threw her back in her cell and told her to finish getting ready and to wait until someone arrived to take her to the courthouse.

She'd changed into her dress uniform, no problem there, but they were stuffy and uncomfortable to wear. The white dress shirt, although required to be tucked, was more comfortable than the dull, green jacket, which she had thrown onto her cot. The pants weren't incredibly uncomfortable, just a little tight at the waist, and whenever she moved her leg, bending her knee, the fabric tightened around it. Not in the way normal fabric would, following with ease and causing no discomfort, but in a way that prohibited a lot of flexibility and became an annoyance whenever she walked. Sitting through her trial was going to be hell.

One might think that Naomi would have been used to wearing the uniform, but she'd only worn it once or twice before that she could remember. It seemed more like it was only once the longer she thought about it. It had been at her 'graduation' from flight school. It wasn't much of an event, but it was a formal ceremony that required her and all the other new pilots to be in a proper dress uniform. That had been fun, but she still hated wearing the uniform. Still, anything was better than the dusty old prison uniform they originally had her wearing.

After what felt like hours of waiting, someone arrived and unlocked her cell. The guard eyed her suspiciously and hesitated before opening the door. Naomi sighed and straightened up, grabbing her jacket from off of the cot and tossing it over her shoulder. She doubted she'd need it outside, but her mother always taught her to plan ahead whenever possible, and she knew from experience that places such as restaurants, courthouses, museums, and churches were typically cold for some reason. In the summer it could be welcomed as a temporary relief, but in the long run it was a bit of an inconvenience.

The guard pulled the cell door to the side, allowing it to slide open with a metallic clunk as it hit the other end of the wall. He stepped inside and Naomi held out her hands, which he promptly cuffed. She'd grown used to the routine in spite of being there for such a short time. The guard moved behind her to guide her forward. "Go on, then," he said gruffly, giving her a light shove on her shoulder. "Don't want to be late for your trial, now, do ya?" He had a faint accent that resembled Clown's, but thicker and meaner.

Naomi complied with his order and exited the cell, glaring at the guards waiting outside her cell to join their coworker in escorting her outside. They looked ready to shoot her should she make a wrong move, and they reminded Naomi a lot of someone who desperately wished they were somewhere else. They definitely didn't look happy to be standing around, babysitting prisoners that would probably be released within the next few months. Naomi didn't blame them, really. While their friends probably got sent out to the front lines or sent to guard prisoners at the penal units, they were stuck here.

As they made their way out of the dark, dingy cells and down the narrow walkway that led away from the main prison area, Naomi's escorts picked up their conversation where they left off. Naomi remained quiet and listened in, figuring it was better than doing nothing. One of the guards with the gun, a lanky guy with broad shoulders, said to the guy with the thick accent, "I overheard the warden talking about what he wants to do with the prisoners here."

"Really? What is it?" the guard with the accent asked. "They lettin' 'em go or somethin'?"

Naomi glanced behind her and saw the lanky guard shake his head in reply. "No, not all of them. He wants to send most of them out to a few penal units, I guess to help dig up landmines for the allied ground troops," he explained to his friend. They came to the first door and he paused the conversation to slide his card and unlock the door. "The warden is hoping to send a select few guards out with them, send some of us to Tyler Island, I think. I heard that they're having some trouble with a few of their prisoners."

"Trouble how?" Naomi perked up at the Accent-Guy's prompting, hoping that Lanky-Dude would continue explaining the situation.

"Well, they bit off more than they could chew." They turned down the next hallway, which was lit up brighter than the first, and reached the next door. He unlocked it and continued, "Tyler Island is a much larger penal unit than the one in Zapland or the one that the Marines and Army set up in the Scofields Plateau. Most of the prisoners got sent there, most of the pilots, too. Zapland's paying the price. Tyler Island has too many prisoners, not enough guards, and Zapland is the exact opposite. I actually heard that there's a pretty good chance that the judge is going to ship Miss Harling's Murderer here, out to Zapland to replace some pilots they lost."

At the mention of this, Naomi nearly spun around to face them, but held back and continued walking forward, smirking ever so slightly. Accent-Guy snorted, as if the comment had been the funniest thing he'd heard in a good while, "And I suppose command would be sending us to help at Tyler Island? Yeah, that's some hilarious shit, right there, Jeffrey. I'm sure it would happen in your dreams." Naomi rolled her eyes as Jeffrey scoffed at his friend, saying nothing more on the topic. Finally, they reached the waiting room area and made it out the front door where a white SUV was waiting that had '_**OADF Military Police**_' in bold, blue stencil lettering on the side.

Naomi paused, thinking back to what the guard had said about the judge and sending her to Zapland. Had Kathryn and the others really had such an influence? Or had that been the plan all along? She wondered if the guard was telling the truth, and if so, it meant she didn't need to worry. Biting her tongue and taking a step forward to the vehicle, she held her breath for a few seconds, then let it out slowly. If she managed to relax, it would all work out in the end.

* * *

**0800hrs.**

The drive to the courthouse had been slow and almost painful to sit through. The guards didn't talk to her, aside from orders such as 'stop fidgeting' or 'sit still and quit squirming in your seat'. Naomi was starting to feel like they were treating her like a child, not that she didn't deserve it. Her nerves were shot at this point and she was having a hard time sitting comfortably and not having any way to curb her excess energy. So once the drive was over and she was allowed to get out, she practically jumped out of the car, grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs.

In front of her, the pristine government building was looming over the parking lot. The sun was shining for the time being, but in the distance, dark storm clouds were rolling in, coming from the direction of the coast bringing with them the ominous threat of rain. It wouldn't be long before it reached them and to her it would have seemed like the city was holding its breath in anticipation. _I know that feeling_, she thought, huffing as she and the guards began their walk up the courthouse steps.

When they entered the building, there was a rush of warm air before the fresh, summer air was locked outside and replaced by the air conditioning in the courthouse. It was chilly, but not enough for her to want to keep her jacket on. The other soldiers walking around the lobby appeared to have the same idea, their jackets slung over their arms or set up on the coat wrack. Naomi was led over to the crowd of people awaiting entry to the actual court, among them Naomi's father, commanding officers, and her father's friends.

Immediately upon reaching the small group of familiar faces, they all greeted her, and the guards took a step back as her father approached, allowing some space after Kathryn nodded to them and motioned for them to give them both some room. Naomi noticed that her father's eyes were nearly bloodshot and he looked as if he hadn't slept too well the night before, but he smiled when he reached her and put a hand on her shoulder. He sighed before he said to her, "Well, then, you're here at last. You ready for this, kid?"

"No," Naomi replied, and her father frowned at this. "But we might as well get it over with, right? Put up a good fight and all that shit." He raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing to continue the topic. As if trying to find something to do to fill the time before they went in, he began to check over her uniform, adjusting her collar and encouraging her to stand up straighter. Naomi didn't argue with him like she normally would, nor did she insist that she looked fine. Instead, she attempted to joke, "Well, at least you aren't telling me to fix my hair. Congratulations, you're only a step away from turning into Mom."

He didn't take too well to the teasing, simply brushing some dust off of her shoulders and scowling. "It isn't a crime to want my daughter to look presentable," he argued. He glanced to the guards with mild disapproval before adding, "After all, you can see what the Osean military typically has as their public face. Maybe you can set the record straight and show them that the air force is up to par, eh?"

Naomi gave a weak chuckle at her father's words, noting the suspicious looks from the guards. "Yeah, maybe." She flinched when she heard the doors leading into the court open and someone announce that they were allowed to come in. She gritted her teeth as the crowd began to file inside, knowing that her father and her friends wouldn't be able to sit with her. She'd be up there, by herself, with several people watching carefully. As her father turned towards the door, making as if he was going to leave, Naomi reached out and grabbed his arm. "Dad, wait! What if…well, what if the worst case scenario happens?"

He hesitated when he turned around, something close to sadness and anger — maybe determination — flashing across his face. Naomi released her hold on his arm, desperately wanting him to answer so she could relax just a little. Maybe a part of her was worried she'd never see him again, that they'd give her a death sentence, and she wanted to know that her family would be okay. Would they be okay without her? Would they miss her? The anxiousness and sadness began to build up again and there was a familiar knot in her throat.

She felt like a child once again. Like a scared, timid little girl that still needed her father. Maybe she did need him. Her whole life he'd been there and now, no matter what happened, he'd be gone and it would be her fault. Her father glanced quickly at the door and then glared at the guards who tried to usher him away. Naomi hadn't been aware of it until then, but they were trying to hurry them both along. "Could you hold on just one damned minute?" her father spat at the MP and turned back to Naomi, wearing a look she couldn't quite understand. He gave her a comforting hug, tight and warm and safe. She let herself relax for just a moment, her father stroking her hair ever so slightly. "Don't worry. We'll work through this, alright? I don't know if I ever told you this, but members of the Foulke family can wind up in some pretty messy situations."

Naomi pulled away from the hug to look at him, sniffling at this point and trying to keep the tears from her eyes. She wanted to let it out of her system, but if her dad could keep it together then so could she. "Really?" she asked, almost scoffing out the word as she put on a small smile.

"Yeah." He gave her a reassuring smile, one that always used to cheer her up. "And you know what? You're looking at the king of bad choices and difficult situations. I won't go into the details, but I've always found my way out of those situations." There was a pause as he thought through his next choice of words. "Now, I don't want to get to deep or philosophical here, but you know how I can be. Look, every situation has something to teach you. In my experience, you just have to put up a good fight through the hard times and in the end, it'll all be worth it."

"I'll try to remember that." Naomi looked to the irritated MPs and the lady that was holding the door open tapping her foot impatiently and checking her watch. She looked back to her dad. "Thanks for the advice, Dad. However, you might want to get going before they court martial both of us."

"That's probably a good idea." He chuckled and gave her a pat on the shoulder before turning towards the door, calling over his shoulder, "In all honesty, I'd actually like to see them try!"

Naomi smiled before she felt someone shove her forward and force her to begin her own march inside. The dark, wooden doors shut behind her with an echoing thud once they entered the court. All eyes in the room instinctively shot towards the source of the noise, before they settled down and fixed their gaze on the front of the courtroom, to the raised platform that the judge would soon be sitting at. There weren't as many people as Naomi expected, all of them appearing to be reporters or younger soldiers working towards joining JAG and thus taking notes on how the case was handled. In fact, most of the men and women in the room were in the latter category, likely having been to excited to pass up an opportunity to watch former President Harling's murderer on trial.

The guards led Naomi to the front of the courtroom, sitting her down at a table to the left. Waiting for her was Kathryn, who gave a warm smile as Naomi sat down beside her. She leaned over and whispered, "I'll be acting as…well, as your defense in a way. Your lawyer got sick, but he spoke with me this morning to go over everything I need to say. I'm not up to date on legal terms, but really what we're trying to do is worry about your sentence and review the evidence. It shouldn't take too long and the case might, officially speaking, be on hold until the war's over and we have more time and resources."

Naomi adjusted herself in her seat, trying to get comfortable while sitting in a rigid position. "So they're just trying to punish me for the time being? Is the death penalty still an option?" Nervously, she turned her head toward the crowd to try and catch a glimpse of her friends and family. Knocker and Clown were sitting beside her father, with Genette and Hans one row in front of them. So they were there for support. Good.

Kathryn took a moment to answer Naomi's question. "Well, technically, yes it is. The death penalty, I mean. However, Knocker and Clown spoke with the judge and presented him with some training footage, so we're hoping we can get you transferred to the 444th and give them more time to officially review your case. Until then…" She trailed off and her gaze drifted to the front of the courtroom as the judge entered. Everyone was ordered to rise and they all did so, ordered to be seated when the judge had finally sat down. Kathryn quickly whispered, "It's gonna be a long day, so strap in and keep your head up, kid."

The judge cleared his throat before he began speaking. "I want to make it clear that this is perhaps going to be one of the shortest court-martials I've ever participated in," he said. "Right now we're just looking for a temporary sentence for the accused. Once the war starts to let up a little, then we can come up with a long term solution. Today, I expect a good argument to be presented. Is that clear?" He paused and scanned the room, everyone nodding in agreement. "Good. Now…the accused is First Lieutenant Naomi Foulke - TAC name is Trigger. Allegedly, she fired the shot that killed former President Harling. Major Kathryn Hamilton is representing the accused in place of Lieutenant Foulke's attorney, and Major Kyle Wilson will be representing the victim, Mr. Harling. Major Wilson, you may proceed."

Naomi watched as a slender man with pale skin and slicked back red hair stood up from the table to the right, adjusting his dress jacket as he stepped to the center of the courtroom. She hadn't noticed him when she came in, so she assumed he'd either been sitting so still she hadn't given him a second look, or that he'd come in quietly before the judge had entered. "Thank you, Your Honor," Wilson said, bowing his head. "I've reviewed the report written by Colonel Matthews — Fort Grays' base commander - as well as the report written by Lieutenant Foulke's commanding officers and the contradictions in both reports are simply astounding, so much so that it leads me to suspect that her COs are trying to cover up for her and prevent themselves from looking like a possible accessory to murder."

In the crowd, Naomi saw Knocker tense up as he sent a glare Wilson's way. Clown placed a hand on his arm to calm him down just as Kathryn shouted, "Objection, Your Honor. Neither Captain Turner nor Captain Pierce are on trial, here, sir. Furthermore, they had nothing to do with the supposed murder. Major Wilson is straying from the topic."

The judge paused, looking at Wilson, who seemed almost startled by the objection. He finally sighed and said, "Sustained. Major Wilson, please refrain from making accusations against witnesses."

"Very well, Your Honor." Wilson bowed his head, glaring at Kathryn before he began to pace the area as he spoke. "As I was saying, the reports contain several contradictions, however I am more inclined to believe Colonel Matthews report, as it aligns with the footage retrieved from Lieutenant Foulke's gun camera. As you all know, modern fighter jets — which of course, include the F-16 that Lieutenant Foulke flies — are equipped with cameras that begin recording when the firing mechanism is active. Every missile fired and every bullet fired was recorded, as well as the intended target. Every time she pulled the trigger.

"Now, footage shows that she fired the missile that struck Mr. Harling's craft, an Erusean V-22 that was commandeered by Colonel Johnson and Mr. Harling. The craft was already damaged by a missile blow that killed Colonel Johnson, and Mr. Harling presumably took the controls, turning it back to the space elevator and into the swarm of drones. Lieutenant Foulke was tasked with taking down the UAVs that were attempting to fire at the retreating aircraft. Mage Squadron, of which Foulke was assigned to, was supposed to be providing escort for the V-22 and yet they engaged the drones without authorization and—"

Naomi gritted her teeth, but she couldn't help but stand up for herself and Clown. "Objection! Our AWACS, Sky Keeper, gave us permission to engage the drones and keep them off of Harling's craft. We were doing our job!"

"Not according to the report from Colonel Matthews," Wilson replied cooly.

"Objection overruled," the judge said quickly in response to Naomi, visibly annoyed by her outburst. Looking to Kathryn, he said as calmly as he could, "Major Hamilton, if you are unable to keep your…'client' under control, then I'm afraid I'll have to have you removed from the court."

"I understand, sir. Please excuse my client. She's been a little high-strung lately," Kathryn said apologetically, turning to Naomi. She lowered her voice as Wilson continued to present his case. "Naomi, I need you to get it together. I have a feeling the judge is one of those 'three strikes and your out' types, so if you keep speaking out of turn, then the chances of them reaching a verdict that keeps you alive diminishes significantly. They won't see you as being fit to remain as a pilot. They'll lock you away and throw out the key."

"I'm sorry," Naomi replied sincerely. "I don't mind the accusations being thrown at me, but he's trying to drag Clown and Knocker into this and it's really annoying. I'm on trial, not them. They have nothing to do with this."

"I've heard about Major Wilson," Kathryn whispered harshly, her voice sounding strained from the annoyance and anger she. "I had Genette look into him so we knew what we're up against. Wilson doesn't let up. On anybody. He gets the job done, no questions asked, and he takes down whoever he's able to in the process. The guy plays dirty, if you ask me. You act out, react like you just did again, I can guarantee that he'll use it against you to prove a point."

Naomi nodded and looked up as Wilson finished presenting his case. "Personally, and I think Mr. Harling would have agreed with me—" he put on a smug smile that made the hairs on the back of Naomi's neck bristle. "—we ought to give the same punishment for the crime she chose to commit. An eye for an eye, as it were. Therefore, the death penalty is the prime option. We can remove the bad apples that give the OADF a bad rep and rid the world of a killer at the exact same time. Living her life out in prison is too merciful for someone cruel enough to pull the trigger without thinking twice."

The judge briefly glanced over at Naomi and she felt the cold, blue eyes of Wilson trained on her. She swallowed hard and turned behind her to look at the others. Her father wore an angry expression, but when his eyes met hers they showed something she'd never once seen from him — fear. It wasn't something she was used to seeing from him. Her whole life he was the invincible man, the gruff, ruthless pilot that fought in the Belkan War. The man who taught her everything she knew, including how to not be afraid. And now he was scared, just like she was.

"Thank you, Major Wilson." The judge's voice snapped her and her father back into reality and Naomi saw Wilson sitting down, the stupid, smug smile still present even after he finally shut his mouth. "Major Hamilton, you may now present your own case. And I'd hope it's a good one."

Kathryn nodded respectfully, patting Naomi on the shoulder reassuringly as she stood from her seat and stepped into the center of the room, between the two tables. Wilson watched her with a strange look on his face, the smile fading to a smirk and then turning slowly into a sneer. Kathryn seemed unfazed and Naomi took a deep breath as she waited for her defense to begin speaking. "Thank you, Your Honor. I'd like to start by saying that, had Mr. Harling been here today and had someone else been on trial for a different murder, he would have expected some degree of mercy to be shown. It is also my firm belief that Mr. Harling's death was an accident, if anything, rather than a premeditated act."

She walked back towards the table Naomi was at and picked up a manila folder, opening it up. "You see, I too reviewed the reports. And unlike Major Wilson, I'm more inclined to believe the reports written by those that actually witnessed the event. This report is Captain Turner's side of the story, he's Lieutenant Foulke's flight commander."

Kathryn paused, then she cleared her throat and began to read from the first page in the folder, "'The V-22, now assumed to have been piloted by former President Harling, made a sharp turn back towards the space elevator and into the swarm of drones. The UAVs wasted no time swarming around their intended target, making it difficult for myself and the members of Golem and Mage to continue providing support. Regardless of the threat of friendly fire, we continued to engage. One drone relentlessly stuck to the V-22's tail and Lieutenant Foulke claims — and furthermore, appeared — to be aiming for the UAV, even getting a lock on it and firing.'"

Closing the file, she tucked it under her shoulder. "This makes it very likely that when Foulke fired, she had a lock on the UAV. The IFF wouldn't allow her to fire on an ally anyways, unless she fired without a lock, in which case the chances of her actually hitting whatever she aimed at are slim." Kathryn set the file back on the table and hurriedly stepped to the center of the courtroom again, standing before the judge.

"Sir, Captain Pierce — Lieutenant Foulke's flight leader — and I have known each other for many years. He was one of the men who had my back during the last war. I know for a fact that he wouldn't assign something to or for anything if he didn't believe they were trustworthy. Lieutenant Foulke seems more than willing to serve her country in any way she can, and respectful of history as well. Why would she kill a president, especially when he served his last term when she was fourteen? She barely had any idea what his policies were, aside from what she's read in the history books." Naomi couldn't help but cheer up a little at this, hopeful for the first time in several days. Kathryn was making a compelling argument, judging from the look on Wilson and the judge's faces.

Kathryn quickly wrapped up her statement. "Lieutenant Foulke has proven to be a model fighter pilot, a great asset to the air force and continued to show great promise until she was grounded. Forcing her to waste away in a cell or abruptly ending her life is cruel and unfair to her, her family, and also to our country, if you were to ask me. Especially when we have no idea for sure if she actually killed the president. How would any of us feel if we killed someone who turned out to be innocent? That's blood on your hands, not hers."

Within the crowd, there were murmurs of agreement and even the judge had an interested look, nodding ever so slightly. Kathryn waited a moment before she continued, finishing off with her own proposal of a sentence. "The 444th Air Base in Zapland is a penal unit, quite strict from what I hear, and they've been requesting new pilots after sustaining losses in an Erusean bombing run. Foulke could be a useful asset out there, even if she's not on the front lines. It would be a good temporary fix until we can confirm whether or not she really did kill Mr. Harling. And if she did? She can remain in the air, serving her country to work off her crimes. This way, you get your justice and she gets to live and continue flying. It's a win-win solution."

"Hmm…Major Hamilton, you may be seated. I'll admit, you present a convincing argument," the judge said with another nod, and the corners of Kathryn's lips curled into a brief smile, bright green eyes lit up with excitement as she made her way back to the table to sit beside Naomi. The judge sighed, glancing at the clock. He squinted to read the face of the clock, the hands displaying the time as nine o' clock. Naomi checked her watch to confirm this. Once he'd managed to read the time, he slammed his gavel onto the wooden block on his desk and said, "This session is adjourned until 10:00 to allow us time to review the evidence and decide upon a sentence. We've already received statements from the witnesses. Dismissed!"

Everyone began to file out of the courtroom and back into the lobby, and Naomi found herself shocked that it was going by so quickly. She was also more than happy to get out of the courtroom and get some fresh air. For now, her hope was restored. As they left to join up with the rest of their friends, Kathryn slung an arm around Naomi's shoulder, starting to grin. "Don't tell anyone, but that was one of the most exciting and terrifying things I've ever done. And don't tell Grimm that it almost beats flying through that tunnel in Sudentor."

"You did what now?" Naomi contained her disbelief as best she could, but she knew a good story when she heard one. And a story from a Razgriz pilot? That had to be worth it. Who knows, it might take her mind off of things and give them something to talk about for an hour.

Kathryn chuckled. "Let's catch up with your dad and the others. Then I'll tell you all about. I should warn you, though, it's a looong story."

Naomi put on a matching, wide grin at this. "No worries there. We've got time."

* * *

**1000hrs.**

After an hour of war stories from the Razgriz and more than one refreshing cup of water, court was finally back in session. Naomi felt calmer than she previously had, but as soon as she sat back down at that chair and waited for the judge to enter once more, she found herself nervously tapping the floor with her foot and fidgeting with her hands. Kathryn had even gotten a little annoyed by her sudden hyperactivity, asking her why her TAC name was Trigger instead of 'Fidgeter'. Naomi had tried to cut back on the foot tapping and leg shaking, but she continued to fidget with her hands.

The judge entered the room and the order for all to rise came just like it had before and everyone stood up. When the judge sat down they all followed. He put on a pair of reading glasses and picked up a sheet of paper, clearing his throat. Naomi held her breath as he began. "After reviewing the options, the court has sentenced First Lieutenant Naomi Foulke to serve as a pilot in the 444th Air Base Penal Unit for the time being. We'll be contacting Colonel D. McKinsey and informing him of the transfer. In the meantime, while she's being shipped out, we'll be going over the case in order to reach a verdict on whether or not she's truly guilty of murdering former president Harling."

Naomi let out a breath of relief, relaxing, although she knew this was just a calm before the storm sort of moment. Right now, she was just thanking the Lord above that she wasn't going to be facing the death penalty. She zoned out as the judge finished up, only reacting once the gavel had been slammed once more and Kathryn nudged her on the shoulder. She stood up, almost in some sort of shock. "That…was really unexpected…" she said to Kathryn, in a daze. Sulking away was Major Wilson, who glared at the two women before rudely shoving his way through the crowd. "Why do I get the feeling he wanted me dead?"

"Major Wilson is a rabid Harling supporter from way back in the day, all the way during his first term," Kathryn explained casually as she helped guide her through the crowd. "I wasn't exactly a Harling supporter myself until the Circum-Pacific War, but a good friend of mine was and she actually helped all of us see what good he was doing. Unfortunately, there's radicals in every group and Wilson adores Harling. Rather, he used to. As someone who knew Harling, I can assure you, he wouldn't want you put to death. Wilson fails to see this, but that doesn't matter anymore. He's no longer a problem."

"I guess your right," Naomi replied as they exited through the wooden doors and into the lobby once again. "I'm a little surprised it was so short…I feel a little faint, actually." Indeed, she was beginning to feel light-headed, as if relief and shock were creating a tug-of-war within her body. Her father instantly hurried over to her as they stepped onto the marble floors in the lobby and he rushed over and hugged her tightly, as relieved as she was. Naomi fought the hug at first, not expecting it, but she slowly relaxed and the light-headedness began to ebb away. "Dad…you can let me go, now."

Her father released his bear hug on her and smiled warmly. "Well, I can't say that this sentence is much better, but at least this way you keep your wings, right?" he said hopefully. Naomi nodded slowly. If he wanted to say more, he didn't, and he looked away from Naomi as Knocker approached them with a somber look. "Something wrong, Knocker?"

"No, just a little disappointing," her CO replied. Naomi looked at him curiously, the others doing the same. "I just spoke with the judge and one of the guards. They're sending her to the 444th later this evening. They've already arranged a transport and everything. The bad part is that they aren't allowing us to go out to the airfield. If we want to say goodbye, we need to do it here and now. That's what they said, anyways."

"We aren't flying escort, then?" Clown asked, something close to sadness in his voice, as if they'd previously had that in mind. As it turns out, they had. "I thought we were able to arrange that with them the other day if all worked out and then we'd fly back to Fort Grays on our own?"

Knocker shook his head. "They changed the escort. Mobius Squadron is flying escort, then they'll be flying back to an allied base in Yuktobania. They're on standby these days, ever since the Free Erusea uprising in 2014, so the guard told me an escort mission is perfect work for them after such a long break from combat."

Naomi sighed, and looked around the group of friends, even if she'd just met most of them. "Thanks for all you guys did for me," she said to them, deciding she needed to go ahead and get the goodbyes and the waterworks over and done with. The guards were waiting nearby, ready to take her back to the base to pack up after she'd just gotten settled in. "I know I didn't know most of you that long, but I really appreciate you helping me stay in the air like this. I won't ever forget it." She felt her dad place a hand on her back and give her a gentle pat. She sucked in a sharp breath and hurriedly gave him a hug, moving on to Kathryn, then Hans, Genette, and finally even Knocker and Clown allowed her to give them a hug.

Clown and Knocker both pulled her into a group hug and she heard Clown say, "Listen here, Trigger. You stay focused on what you need to do and you trust your gut. Keep an eye on your teammates out there, even if you are flying with convicts."

"Yeah," Knocker agreed. "Maybe you can show 'em how a real pilot flies. You've got real promise kid, and it's a damn shame that they're doing this to you. Just work to improve yourself and get out alive."

Hans, who was standing nearest to them and heard the words of encouragement, added as she pulled away from them, "In short, give them hell and make sure they don't forget you. Hold your own and earn yourself the respect you deserve. It's what I did when I joined Wardog." Naomi gave him an appreciative smile, and Kathryn nodded in agreement as she wrapped an arm around her husband.

"I better get going, now," Naomi said, glancing over at the ever impatient guards.

"Right," Genette said shortly, looking at the clock. Before she began to leave, he told her, "Remember that we've still got your back. I've got the feeling something else is going on here and your dad and I are going to get to the bottom of it." She nodded, looking back only briefly to get a last look at their faces before continuing on her way to the guards.

With all the words of encouragement and the reassuring comment from Genette fresh in her mind, Naomi didn't feel as hesitant when they approached the SUV that would be taking them back to the base's prison. A verdict was yet to be reached, and she had the feeling that she was marching straight to hell, but she was bound and determined to make it out alive.

_Don't give up without a fight. Give 'em hell and earn respect. Trust your gut._ Naomi went over the words in her head, taking a deep breath as she got into the car. _Here we go._

* * *

Author's Note: _This chapter was a pain to write and I apologize if any of the trial scene were inaccurate or rushed in any way. I think I cleaned it up enough, though._

_Anyways, once again we've got a double update! Good news, this is the last filler chapter for a while and we're moving onto mission chapters once again! The Trial Arc has come to an end and now the Spare Arc is beginning and I'm super excited. I hope everyone is as stoked as I am because I've got loads planned including (but not limited to) further characterization and development of the Spares, possibly an OC, and maybe even a few scenes to set up some future pairings ;)_

_One final thing, we've got a new cover! What do you think of it? I felt like the old one was a little rushed, so as a little treat I decided to make a new one. Personally, I think it looks better with an actual screenshot from the game and with Trigger's actual Three Strikes between the text, but that's just my opinion._

_Anyways, strap in, ya'll, because the next chapter is going to be the start of one crazy ride!_


	9. 444

Chapter Eight: 444

|…|…|…|

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Usea.**  
_**June 20th, 2019.**_  
**1100hrs.**

|…|…|…|

They put her on a transport plane to fly her to an allied base south of the Usean continent, near the front lines, the renowned Mobius Squadron playing escort before they landed with the transport Naomi was on and then flew back towards Yuktobania. Just like Knocker had said, the squadron didn't have any interest in staying around. Naomi barely even caught a glimpse of their F-22s before they had vanished from the sky and she was loaded onto a transport ship.

It had been a few days since she'd been locked on the ship, and she wasn't allowed to step out on deck. They stopped once more and she heard a lot of chatter among the crew, but Naomi wasn't too sure what for. After that, they sailed towards the east on their dingy transport. Evidently, since they were classified as not being a war vessel and were considered a harmless cargo ship, the Erusean's left them alone whenever they happened to fly or sail their way, but that's not to say that they didn't have a few forms of defense tucked away in the off chance they were attacked.

Naomi desperately hoped that they were never attacked. One of Naomi's greatest fears was drowning. She wasn't so much scared of water or the ocean, if anything, she loved days on the beach as much as everyone and she trusted her ability to swim. Having done competitive swimming for a few years, she was a strong swimmer and she could tread water for a good while. That wasn't a problem. What she was scared of was being trapped in something, like the cockpit of a plane or in handcuffs in a cell, and sinking underwater.

There was no escape in either of those situations, and she'd know she was dying and there wasn't anything she could do about it. She'd be trapped and try her best to fight it, to be able to breath, but it wouldn't happen and it would only speed up the time it took for her to run out of air. The idea of her lungs filling with water and her oxygen supply being cut off, dying a slow, torturous death. It was enough to make her dislike being on ships for prolonged periods of time. That was the main reason she didn't join the Navy and why she preferred flying at higher altitudes whenever they were engaging an enemy over water.

But she had to suck it up and deal with the ridiculous nightmares she had, unable to get the thought of drowning out of her mind. It was of great relief to her when the ship finally stopped and someone came to get her. Typically, wherever she went below deck, a single guard accompanied her. The only place she went by herself was the bathroom, either to use it or to shower, but the guard waited outside at all times. When they arrived in Zapland, two guards positioned in front of her and behind her kept watch on her.

Outside, the brightness of the sun combined with the sudden change in temperature was enough to cause Naomi to squeeze her eyes shut and blink a few times to properly adjust. It was nice to be out of the dark, damp, and extremely cold cell, but the heat was almost unbearable. They'd given her a flight suit to wear with her prisoner number on it and it barely breathed any, adding to the discomfort she felt with the change in temperature. Once she was finally able to see straight, her eyes adjusting at last, she took in the surroundings of her new home.

It wasn't a desert, as there were several pine trees and grass along the rocky ground, but as the guards shoved Naomi off of the ship and they began their march to the base, she noticed that the ground wasn't shifty like sand was, it was solid with a thin layer of dirt and rocks as a top coating, bearing more resemblance to the texture of solid ground in a canyon than to a desert or beach. Off in the distance, a tan and brown hillside could be seen, and just beneath that was what appeared to be an airstrip with trucks and planes and everything.

Naomi did a double take at this, wondering why the hell they had an airstrip all the way over there when they had a perfectly decent set of hangars and a nicely paved runway right beside it. It took her a moment to realize that it was fake, an act of some sorts. It was difficult to see from where they were, walking along a heavily guarded and fenced in isle between yards, but there were large craters marring the fake airstrip and many of the planes settled on it were damaged and in need of repair. They must have been scrapped aircraft, the real fighters likely being stored safely within the hangars. She doubted they'd send even the worst criminals up in a trashed plane.

The yards around her were mostly vacant, except for two of them. On their way to the main building, they passed by them. One yard contained a few soldiers, guards most likely, blowing up a massive balloon and transporting another. As Naomi watched them, they appeared to be balloons of trucks other vehicles, presumably what they had out on the fake airstrip. She had to hand it to them, that was pretty neat. They didn't seem too interested in Naomi or the guards from the ship as they passed by, moving on to walk beside the next yard.

The second yard contained the most activity, with those she assumed were her fellow prisoners playing a rough game of tackle football, guards with machine guns watching their every move. Unlike the guards preparing the balloons for the fake air base, the prisoners did seem to take an interest in the newcomer. Naomi watched as two of the men were the first to take notice. One of them was a burly, dark skinned man with broad shoulders, the other an average built, slender man with messy blond hair and a smug look on his face, the football in his hands.

They were too far away for her to hear exactly what they were saying, but the burly man pointed her out and the others paused their game to see what he was pointing out. The smug blond guy tilted his head to the side and watched her curiously, the others mostly just trying to figure out who she was. Somewhere within the crowd she heard a few whistles, but the blond guy seemed to scoff and toss the football at another prisoner, saying something that sounded like 'snap out of it, boys, and get your head back in the game. We can greet the new meat later.'

Naomi continued to watch them and the blond guy briefly glanced her way one last time before joining back in on the game, losing interest as quickly as he'd gained it. It seemed that he was the leader of the group, or at the very least he'd scraped up enough respect for himself so they'd listen to what he said. The burly black man would have been the one to strike Naomi as the ring leader, but the blond guy seemed to cocky and smug to follow orders from anybody. It was easy enough to take one look at the crowd and easily assess who she had to watch out for. She had the feeling she'd have to prove herself to these guys, or worry about getting pummeled down to the bottom of the food chain.

Eventually, the sounds of their football game faded away and they made a few more turns down isles and across the runway before reaching the main building. They stepped inside, and nice, air conditioning greeted them. Naomi sighed with relief, but her relief was short lived as they continued walking. The lights just barely seemed to work and the walls were a dirty gray color, as if the room hadn't been cleaned in a while. The guards took her to the base commander's office, which wasn't much better than the surrounding building. It was brighter and cooler in this room, with a window opened to provide a nice supply of light and lighten up the otherwise gloomy room.

The base commander was a short, broad shouldered man with tanned skin, white hair, and a look of discomfort and annoyance etched on his features. He smirked as they entered the room and ordered the guards to shut the door and wait outside. "They told me we'd be getting a hotshot pilot turned murderer," the base commander, McKinsey, said as he approached her. "For some reason, when they said they were sending Harling's killer down here, I didn't expect a girl. At least, I didn't expect a pretty one."

Naomi straightened up, giving him a sour look. She didn't fear men or hate them, nor did she cry sexism at every single thing they did, but the compliment McKinsey gave her seemed lost and made her uncomfortable due to the fact he was at least twice her age and — until further notice — her commanding officer. This guy already deserved less respect than the sorry, run down base he commanded. "Commander McKinsey, I presume?" she asked heatedly, unable to resist insulting the guy. "They didn't tell me you'd be a loser _and_ a pervert."

His smirk faded and he took a step back. "I'll let that one slide, but you're going to have to learn to watch your mouth around here." McKinsey now just gave off a pompous sort of air, rather than a creepy one. It helped that he was standing about two feet away from her, now. "Let me give you the rundown of things around here. First off, I wouldn't dream of touching a con like yourself. The prisoners, however? Aside from you and our mechanic, they're all men. We don't get a lot of women around here, so they're going to eat you alive if you don't watch your back. Until you prove yourself in the air, you're nothing more than an object to them."

"Okay, so I just have to fly like a maniac and blow shit up to get in their good graces?" Naomi asked, seeing that she didn't have a whole lot to fear from McKinsey. The guy seemed like he was all bark and no bite. He could threaten her as much as he wanted, but actions speak louder than words. It seemed from what he was saying, that was the order of things around here. She smiled a little when he nodded, "Easy enough."

"Now hold on," McKinsey said, holding up a hand for her silence. "Let me make myself clear. Around here, you respect me, you respect my authority, and you respect the guards. You answer to me. My word is law. First Lieutenant Naomi Foulke ceased to exist the second you got shipped out here. Your TAC name is your new identity. You're Trigger from here on out and I as good as own you. The rest of the prisoners get the same treatment. You can go and introduce yourself to them once we're done here, figure out for yourselves which ones you want to associate with. I'd choose carefully if I were you."

Naomi narrowed her eyes on him, trying to detect the underlying threat in his words. He was challenging her not to fall in with prisoners that he didn't favor, but the key here was finding which ones he 'liked' by observing his behavior towards them. She could easily figure this out. He seemed like one of those people who would outright show you who he favored over the others. Maybe she'd associate with the ones he didn't like just to get on his nerves. Earning their trust was going to take some time, though. Nonchalantly, she said, "Wilco. Shouldn't be too hard."

McKinsey scoffed and shook his head. "An attitude like that is gonna get you killed, so my advice is to not act like a dumbass. I'm going to be putting you in a cell by yourself for a few days so I can speak with the other female on the base. Her name's Avril, she's got a short temper and I don't want to throw some scrawny ass kid in there with her as a roommate without talking to her about it first." He moved over to a filing cabinet and looked through a few folders before he found what he was looking for. "The empty cell that used to house one of the other pilots that got shot down should work fine. Cell number…ahh, perfect. Cell 16. It's right beside Avril's, number 15. You can stay there for now. The guards can give you directions so you can drop off your bag and join the others."

"Wait a minute, you just let us wander around free?" Naomi asked, gathering that he gave them a surprising amount of free rein.

"Not exactly," McKinsey answered, slamming the filing cabinet shut and turning back to her. "You're allowed to roam freely through the hangars, cell block, the yard, and mess hall, and showers between the hours of 0400 and 2100. We have a barbershop open on the weekends, starting after lunch, you can get a haircut if you wish. You need a pass or explicit permission to visit the main building, which is where you are now, and also a pass to visit our 'shop' on base. If you get permission from me to visit the shop and you somehow have some cash on you, you can scrounge up some stuff for entertainment. I should warn you, most of it was either donated by citizens in Osea or pulled out of dead men's cells."

"Fantastic," Naomi commented dryly. "This place sounds like Heaven on Earth."

"Perfect. Another snarky, sarcastic asshole will fit right in." McKinsey didn't sound at all pleased by this, and Naomi didn't exactly want to fit in with the other prisoners. Oh, well. McKinsey called the guards back in. The door opened and both guards stepped inside. "Show her to her room, boys. One last thing, Trigger. You try to run while you're in the air, you make one wrong move, do anything I don't like, and I'll make sure you'll never see the light of another day. Dismissed." Naomi glared at him as he said this, before she was rudely shoved out of the office door and ushered back outside.

Something about that guy, just didn't sit right with her.

* * *

**1200hrs.**

The guards showed her to her cell before they removed the cuffs on her hands and feet and left her to her own devices. She entered the gray, filthy cell and dropped her duffle bag onto the rickety cot in the cell. It wasn't much to look at. There was plenty of natural light, plus some white LEDs in the walkway outside the cell. In the cell itself, a single window at the top with bars around it, complete with spider webs and dust. Just below that was a moldy sink with a single bar of soap and an equally as filthy mirror. Just beside that, in the corner of the cell, was the toilet she would be forced to use. The worst part was that, unlike the main building and McKinsey's office, there was little to no air conditioning in the cell block, making it stuffy and almost humid as opposed to the dry heat outside.

It wasn't a first class hotel, but it would work for the time being. She didn't want to bother unpacking just yet, in fact, she just wanted to rinse her face off and get something to eat. She ran the water in the grimy old sink and cupped her hands underneath it. It was murky and warm, unlike normal, semi-filtered tap water. Sighing, she sloshed it into her face and reached for the tattered towel thrown across the edge to dry her face. She locked eyes with herself in the mirror and sighed, taking a step back and flopping down onto the cot, her legs aching.

Over the loudspeakers, one of the guards announced that it was lunch time and for all prisoners to report to the mess hall. Naomi would have thought it was optional, but she went nonetheless, too hungry to pass up the opportunity. Outside, on the way to the mess hall, some guards with military working dogs had shown up. The tan and black Dinsmark Shepherds and their leaner Belkan Malinois counterparts were whining and snapping eagerly at the prisoners that walked past them and their handlers, hurriedly making their way out of the sun and heat and inside to put something on their stomachs.

Naomi was one of the last prisoners to file inside, and she hesitantly stepped into the mess hall and took a look around. It wasn't hard to spot the groups of comrades. The blond guy she'd seen in the yard was sitting with the burly man, and three people she didn't recognize. A lanky guy with scruffy, light brown facial hair, the second being a shifty, stout looking guy with a sly grin on his face as he played with a couple of cards, and an older fellow with olive skin and sleek black hair. A few other tables had guards and other base personnel forced to serve with the penal unit and the other had a few cheerful, friendly looking inmates. Come to think of it, the scruffy guy looked more suited to sit with that crowd rather than sit with the grumpy gang with his dumb grin going to waste.

In the corner was one other person, the only woman that Naomi could see. That must be the mechanic, Avril, that McKinsey mentioned earlier. She didn't once look up from her food, other than to glare with disgust and disapproval at the men around her. Naomi was surprised how quickly most of them had gotten through the line to get their food, but she figured they must have shoved through to get there. She sighed and grabbed a tray to join the line, not having to wait very long. They didn't give them a whole lot.

A dry sandwich, a cup of mushy, overripe fruit, and a bottle of water. That was it. That was lunch. Never again would she complain about the food she ate at Fort Grays. Right now, she'd kill for some of their stew or tough steak. It seemed like it was a gourmet meal compared to this. Disappointed she tried to search for a place to sit, not sure if she should join that Avril girl or try and mingle with the other prisoners. The decision was made for her when the blond guy, after whispering with his companions, shouted at her, "Hey! Hatchling! Get over here!"

Startled by their greeting, she hesitantly approached the table, sitting down at the corner where they'd made room for her, placing her next to the olive skinned guy and across from the blond haired guy. Now that she was closer to them, she got a better look at all of them. The blond guy had stereotypical bright blue eyes that seemed to glint with defiance, with well groomed facial hair that looked neater and more deliberate than the scruff that the lanky dude had. Naomi actually would have gone so far to say he was attractive, almost giving off the pretty-boy vibe if not for the rough way he acted and spoke. "Well, well. When news spread that they were bringing in a new prisoner, I figured we'd have another hotshot to compete with."

Naomi glanced at the others, who all murmured in agreement. She looked back to the blond fellow. "My last squadron had high hopes for me," she said in response, determined to sound confident and relaxed. Naomi wanted them to know she was just as capable of flying and holding her own on the ground and in the air as they were. Her dad didn't spend all those years teaching her how to fight for nothing. "I had a decent rep before everything went to shit."

He smirked, as if he was almost interested in learning more. "Well, that rep won't do you much good out here, kid. We earn our spot. And our bragging rights." He looked around at the others before he began the introductions. "My name's Count. As far as you're concerned, I'm the leader of this 'squadron'. I've got the top kill score and am by far the most skilled pilot here." Naomi saw the others hold back some kind of laughter. Count's blue eyes flicked to them. "Enough about me, then. The big guy's Champ, the gambler is High Roller, you're sitting next to Full Band, and—"

The lanky guy cut Count off and reached across the table to hold out his hand, giving her a friendly smile. "They call me Tabloid. 'Round here I'm known for some pretty good stories, but they like to call 'em conspiracies." Naomi took his hand and gave it a firm shake, returning the smile. Count glared daggers at Tabloid, likely upset by the interruption, but simply let out a deep huff and looked back to Naomi.

"Surely _you've_ got a name, right?" Count inquired. "We like to know a bit about who's got our back in the sky." He was asking her so many questions that she hadn't even taken a single bite out of her lunch yet, though admittedly she was a little scared to eat in front of a bunch of strangers. They kept staring at her like they'd take it from her.

Sighing, and remembering what McKinsey had told her, she reluctantly offered up her TAC name, "My name's Trigger."

Full Band took a swig of his water and said, "You know, I've got to ask how a dainty little girl like you got a harsh name like that."

It was her turn to glare, keeping her voice level as she replied, "I don't hesitate in combat. I lock on and I fire, no questions asked. In flight school, I had a good marksmanship score. Over time, a friend of mine started calling me that as a joke and it spread to the rest of the squadron and by the time I graduated, the name stuck." Count, Tabloid, and Full Band gave slow nods at this, but only Tabloid seemed even mildly impressed. Looking back to Full Band, she added, "I'd also watch who you call 'dainty', _sir_. I know a couple of ways to put you in a world of hurt."

High Roller spoke up next, "Y'know, funny you should say somethin' like that. Y'see, there's a rumor going around about what you did to get sent here, Trigger. Full Band told me 'bout it a few days after they told us a new inmate was comin' in. So tell me, how does it feel to kill a former president?" Naomi looked around nervously, Count, Champ, and Full Band all chuckling as if they liked seeing her squirm in answer to the question. She didn't answer, she wasn't sure how. Her confidence began to fade and she stared at High Roller, this guy she'd just met in a prison, asking her how it felt to assassinate a president.

"C'mon, don't be shy, girly," Champ cooed and Naomi's blood ran cold. She didn't like how they were playing. Tabloid seemed to be the only one with any decency, seeming hesitant and unwilling to join in on their taunting. "We all heard about it, baby, we just wanna know if it's true."

"It isn't true. I didn't kill Harling in cold blood, so you can stop asking me and forget about all the bullshit they've been feeding you. You want to know what it's like to murder someone, why don't you ask some of the Erusean aces?" Naomi challenged them, giving them all a fiery glare, trying to push down how uncomfortable she was by this entire exchange. She made eye contact with Count, who still had that same stupid smirk on his face. They stared at each other for a few minutes before she shoved her bowl of spoiled fruit and moldy sandwich towards him and snatched away her water bottle. "There. Maybe you guys can feed more than your egos."

He chortled, letting out a long, low whistle, as if feigning being impressed by the display. As Naomi stood up, she noticed that Avril had looked up from her food and was eyeing her curiously, but she simply left the mess hall without another word and mostly ignoring the others, figuring she'd go back to her cell and take a nap to cool off. Off to a rocky start. And to think it was only her first day.

Did they only care about the crime a person committed? She shuddered, hating how she'd reacted to them and hating how she'd been dumb enough to even stop and socialize with them to begin with. They knew they'd gotten under her skin, and the worst part was that she'd let them. If she was lucky, she wouldn't have to see them for a while, but next time she was going to be prepared.

* * *

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Usea.**  
_**July 1st, 2019.**_  
**0800hrs.**

After the run in with Count and his gang and making a less than favorable first impression, Naomi began to spend more time by herself. Mostly she just observed the other interactions among the convicts, noting who had friendlier, more approachable personalities. Tabloid showed the most promise there, seeming like a chill, go with the flow guy. How the hell he wound up in a penal unit, Naomi had no idea. He seemed like the last person you'd suspect of committing a crime. Most of the time, she saw him chatting and laughing with the guards and other prisoners or sitting by himself, quietly reading a book.

He seemed like somebody Naomi could easily get along with, but he often spent time around Count or by himself, making it difficult to get close to them. Every once and a while Naomi would notice that Tabloid or Count or Champ would often get sent to a place that the guards simply referred to as 'solitary'. She later learned that solitary confinement meant several hours in a sweltering shack — a special sort of cell without any windows — but on the third day she was there, she saw Count and Champ get locked in it for two days after a scuffle in the yard. When they got back, they often weren't allowed to eat until dinner, depending on when they got out, which meant they went without dinner for nearly three days.

Other prisoners got sent away as well, she even saw Avril get sent there once, and so far Naomi had been lucky enough to avoid it. A few short conversations with some guards and one or two other prisoners and Naomi had pretty much learned as much as she needed to know to survive her time here. Solitary was the main form of punishment, and you could get sent there for the most minor reasons. The squadron was known as Spare Squadron, and Count was the self-proclaimed leader, the alpha male as it were. He had a pretty high opinion of himself, and evidently was rumored to have come from a noble family, though many said he was a pathological liar and made those rumors up himself.

Funnily enough, the Avril lady was nicknamed the Scrap Queen and was apparently sent there after building her own plane and getting shot down by some Osean fighters. They shipped her to the 444th to fix up some scrapped planes to provide Spare Squadron with their equipment. She didn't give anyone the time of day and yet somehow had all of the pilots under her thumb. There was some sort of respect towards her, even if it wasn't mutual. She took care of their planes and kept them in the air and in return, they didn't bother her. The men Naomi had talked to said that that was how you earn respect. You bring something worthwhile to the table.

Naomi was eagerly awaiting her opportunity to do so, and she got her chance earlier than she had expected. They brought all the prisoners into the main building for a briefing on the first of July, a hot, dusty Monday morning. After getting tired of the heat and having the back of her neck sweating constantly, Naomi had gone to the barbershop on base the afternoon before to get her hair cut. Previously having to pull her hair into a ponytail or bun, she now wore her hair in a pixie cut, one only slightly shorter than Avril's hair cut and when she walked into that briefing, she had some renewed energy and confidence.

Most of the seats were occupied when she entered the briefing room, but she was aware of how few pilots there actually were. Only about fourteen or fifteen from the looks of things, something she hadn't really noticed before. She sat down at the only empty eat available, stuck between Count and Tabloid. She wasn't as bothered by sitting next to Tabloid, since she was able to give him a friendly greeting, but there was some growing tension with Count. When she sat down, he sneered, "Looks like the hermit finally decided to come out of her shell and grace us with her presence. I wonder what other surprises you've got in store, kid."

"Quit trying to intimidate the girl, Count." Tabloid gave a small chuckle. Count grinned wildly in response, and Naomi found herself bewildered by the exchange. They seemed determined to confuse the shit out of her every chance they got. At least Count did. She'd tried to keep their interactions to a minimum, but maybe she could try and give him another chance and make some allies. It never hurt to have friends.

All conversation ceased as soon as the base commander stepped into the room and cut the lights, starting up the computer screen that would display the briefing. McKinsey took a moment to survey the area and make sure nobody was going to say anything before he started the briefing, his eyes locking on Naomi, "All right guys, I'll let you in on some juicy info. The new guy — or rather, girl, as you may have heard — was found guilty by the International Union Peacekeeping Force's court martial. It's official now. She is the murderer of Harling in the flesh." A few whistles and 'ooh's followed this statement, and Naomi saw Count turn and wink at her, causing her to cross her arms and frown. Of course she was guilty, even if she hadn't done it. Oh well. At least she was still alive.

McKinsey waited for the oohs and aahs to die down before he continued, the screen displaying a picture of Naomi's personal emblem, "Her TAC name's Trigger. Now, as of today, she may be attached to the Osean Air Force Base 444 Squadron, but that's just some symbolic bullshit. It doesn't really matter if she's Harling's murderer or not. Every last one of you has been incarcerated for one reason or another." He paused, clearing his throat before he went on, "A few of you in the penal unit know how to fly, and HQ needs to plug the deficit in our air force. So they proposed sending you guys on a reconnaissance mission to the Waiapolo Mountains. But that idea was flat out rejected. No, you'll be atoning for your crimes right here at this base. This base is a decoy designed to draw enemy fire. And, as members of this base, you'll be taking hits from the enemy. This will allow our forces to safely prepare a counterattack."

Naomi wasn't sure what the point of the briefing was, but she didn't like the sound of that. The briefing was cut off when a loud thud sounded off in the distance, triggering an alarm. Naomi jumped at this, but everyone else seemed completely at ease. In fact, if anything, they seemed bored by the situation, as if they knew exactly what was going on. Naomi thought she did, too. They were being bombed, right? So why weren't they just a little more concerned by this? From the door, a guard shouted out, "Incoming!"

"Switch off that alarm!" McKinsey ordered. "It's just the usual. Pfft. I thought Zapland was supposed to be an isolated area. And to think we had a few days without an incident. Damn it." The alarm went on for a few more seconds before it cut off. "Okay, I'm gonna need a few aircraft to scramble."

"Again?!" demanded a pilot in the back of the room.

"Heh. I wonder how many we'll lose today…" Count said, frowning, crossing his arms and relaxing in his seat.

"Anything's better than solitary." Full Band added, shrugging his shoulders. Naomi looked around as many of them began to talk over one another, protesting being sent into the air.

"How many can actually fly?" Champ growled, but nobody answered his question.

They all stood up to prepare to file out of the room and head to the hangars, just as another guard announced, "Enemy detected over the dummy runway."

Everyone stood still and looked to McKinsey for guidance on what to do next. Even though they seemed to hold little respect for him judging by what she'd seen, they probably didn't know what their orders were going to be. Naomi asked the one question on her mind at that time, "What exactly are we supposed to do? Do we just take off and shoot them down?"

"No," McKinsey answered her sternly. "We just need to make it look like we can put up a fight. Some of those piles of junk on the runway can at least take off. Let's get the guiltiest cons in the sky first." His eyes shot to Naomi. "We'll start with Harling's murderer. We don't expect you to down any bombers. But what we _do_ want is to make them think that we've got an active base here. Dismissed."

With that, they all began to exit the main building and hurry out to the hangar. They didn't run, not even batting an eye as they stepped outside and got a clear view of the bombers attacking the fake runway. Everyone made sure that Naomi got the last pick when it came to the planes. They all picked through the bunch, climbing into the cockpits and beginning their taxi outside. She noticed that they all had white lines on the tail, and they all seemed to choose specific plans. Naomi looked around the hangar and a familiar fighter caught her eye. An F-16 bearing her personal emblem, an orange-haired wolf clutching a revolver in its mouth.

As she approached, she realized she had her own set of white lines. There were three lines, painted across to botch up any emblems painted on the tail. The wolf's face was struck through by the obtrusive paint and the lower part of the Osean flag was cut through, as if they actually tried to preserve some of that. She frowned and looked around for the mechanic, catching the attention of Avril. For the first time, the Scrap Queen approached her and spoke, "You Harling's murderer?"

Naomi nodded at this and Avril gestured at the F-16. "They had this shipped in from Fort Grays for you, at the request of some Captain or some shit. Dunno what strings he had to pull to get it here, but I had to do some tweaking to it to make sure it would fly without the engine blowing up on you," Avril snapped. "So try not to wreck it and I won't have any beef with you, got it? Other than that, it's all yours." She waved her away and began to walk away, picking up a wrench off of the mechanic's tray. Naomi heard her add as she left, "You're the only dumbass here with three sin-lines. Wonder what the hell you did to earn that. Pfft."

She frowned, looking back at the tail once more before getting into the appropriate gear, grabbing her helmet and climbing up the ladder and to get into the cockpit. There was a note on the ejection seat, and Naomi suspiciously reached for it, carefully unfolding the paper and quickly began reading the messy handwriting. It was Clown's, she'd recognize it anywhere. The note read:

_Trigger- Blaze and Knocker helped me out with this one. I spoke with McKinsey to clear it with him. Take care of your plane, Colonel Matthews is pissed we gave it to you to begin with.  
More importantly, take care of yourself. Wish we could have done more._  
_-Clown._

Folding the note back up and sticking it into the pocket of her flight suit, Naomi climbed into the cockpit. She strapped in and the canopy was closed, allowing her to start up the engine and line up outside with the others to prepare to taxi. She pulled up beside Count's plane as they awaited clearance for taxying and take off. Count seemed to have picked out the one plane that stuck out like a sore thumb, the only Su-33 Flanker in the squadron, bearing a three-tone gray and blue paint job. Her plane was almost pathetically tiny compared to his.

Unlike Naomi's Falcon, Count's plane's tail had a single line on the tail. His own personal emblem appeared to be a top hat with wings attached to it. A silly little cartoon-styled design, but it wasn't much more ridiculous than her orange and white wolf holding a gun in its mouth. At least his didn't display a perfect example of bad gun safety. Looking at the other planes all lined up and waiting, only Champ and one other member had more than one line. They had two. Odd. What were the lines supposed to represent, exactly?

Naomi sighed and radioed the control tower, "Control, this is Trigger. I'm kinda new here, so would you mind telling me where to go? Commander McKinsey said to get the guiltiest of us in the air first, so I'm at a bit of a loss." She eyed the sky and was able to see the bombers beginning to circle back around after their last run. She sighed, noticing that they were coming closer to the actual air base this time. The idea of getting blown to smithereens before she even took off wasn't pleasant.

"Follow orders, Trigger," control replied. "Taxi to the runway now. Check your altimeter and wait in front of the runway"

Before Naomi could react, the others had already started their own taxi, Champ pulling in front with Count protesting, possibly having the same concerns Naomi did. "Control, would you kindly send me up first?" Count was clearly annoyed, but made an attempt to keep his cool. As the self-proclaimed leader, it seemed he wanted to be the first to take off and the last to die. Naomi kept quiet as Champ pulled in front of Count and then Tabloid.

"Spare 8! Champ! This is the control tower!" control snapped at him as he prepared to take off. "You are not cleared for takeoff, obey orders!"

Naomi had enough space to finally pull forward and taxi, but Champ's defiant action slowed them all down. "Go to hell!" Champ bellowed in response, ignoring the control tower's warnings. She grimaced as she was once again forced to wait. "I ain't dyin' down here!"

"All aircraft preparing for takeoff, watch out for Spare 8! He's forcing a takeoff!" Control sounded frustrated by Champ's insistence, but knew that there wasn't anything they could do but warn the others. Naomi sighed, making sure everything was in order, checking that all controls worked, before fixing her oxygen mask so that it was in place.

Count radioed in again, his plane right in front of Naomi's. "I'll take up command," he said, leading the way for the remaining aircraft on the runway. "Any objections?"

"Yeah, I've got one," Naomi answered. "Who died and made you squadron leader?" He said nothing to this, but she knew he was probably not pleased by her comment. Already, she knew she wasn't going to do well here. They were clearly a disorganized, possibly crazy group, not to mention the terrible tempers they possessed. She could have a pretty short temper herself, but these guys seemed out of their minds and rude to everyone. These were the guys that would be watching her back?

"There's no need to worry about who's the squad leader, Trigger," Tabloid said to her. Mostly to Count, he finished with, "That'll get decided in the skies. Hehe…"

"Touché," Count replied, almost sounding as if he'd be smiling when he said that. Naomi clenched her jaw, deciding it was best to keep her mouth shut for now. They were sure this was a squadron? She'd rather take the life sentence than this. She just had to remember that she could work off her 'sins' this way. Maybe if she put up with them, then it would all be worth it in the end.

"Trigger, your call sign is Spare 15," control informed her. Naomi sighed, realizing that that meant she was the runt of the pack, all the way at the bottom of the hierarchy. "Consider it your prisoner number for the air. Commencing deception and interception." She slowed to a halt as she waited for Count to take off, glad she wasn't looking at his ass anymore. He climbed into the sky and then banked to the right to join up with Champ. "Spare 15, the runway's free! You have permission to take off, so go now!"

In her ear, Champ suddenly let out a loud whoop and rolled in the air, proceeding to pull some unusual maneuvers, but ones that were far from difficult. "Wooohoooo! My blood's boilin'! C'mon, let's get this party started!"

Naomi began her takeoff as the control tower snarled, "Toss the chump in solitary once he gets back! Spare 8, when you land your ass is grass!"

"Only if he makes it back…" Tabloid said darkly. Naomi gulped at this, glad she had her own plane with her instead of one of the rust buckets they were flying. At least she was in her element and had a chance to come out alive, which is more than she could say for the others. A part of her felt bad that they got scrap and she got the same plane she'd had at her last assignment.

"Champ's gonna survive?" High Roller asked, sounding amused. "Anyone wanna make a bet on that?"

"No one's gonna take that bet," Full Band replied.

"Ah, well, I don't mind him stirring things up a bit." Count said cooly. "Makes it more exciting that way."

"Sir Count's on his high horse again. Let's see how long it lasts this time," High Roller chuckled. "You see, Trigger, his true character shows when he's pushed into a corner, like when he's losing at poker." Naomi was only half paying attention as she instinctively began to check everything and make sure it was all in working order. She did hear Count snip at High Roller to 'kindly shut up'.

After having the control tower yell at her for blocking the runway, she had to cut her normal pre-flight checks short and began her takeoff. Naomi had finally made her climb into the sky, pulling up and into the air to join the others. The control tower radioed her to tell her the altitude restriction was lifted and she veered away from the runway. She flew towards the clouds, then pulled back around to join up with the others, Count having done the same thing. Before Naomi even attempted pursuing one of the targets that had shown up on radar, Count sighed and said, "So, no missiles again. The FCS is locked. We're acting as bait today, boys. Gonna be a long flight."

"Damn!" Full Band spat in frustration.

"You're good. Really, I'm serious, I love this job!" Tabloid chirped. Naomi didn't know how he could sound so cheerful in such a serious situation.

She pressed the fire button for the missiles, but no good came from it. Count was right. It was locked. "Shit, are you serious? We can't even defend ourselves?"

"Prisoners use nothing without supervision," a new voice replied, cold and harsh. "Not even a pencil." Naomi didn't recognize it as a member of Spare Squadron. Wait a minute. Did they assign an AWACS to a penal unit? That would make sense, unless it was someone on the ground. She felt a twang of pity for whatever poor sap got stuck with that job. It must suck. Was this guy going to be anything like Sky Keeper was?

"Ah, well, let's make this a little more interesting," Champ said slyly as he began to fly in some ridiculous twists and turns in hopes of gathering the enemy's attention. All of them were clustered together over the base. Naomi snorted to herself as she turned towards them to join the tail end. Did they want to die? Because their ridiculous 'formation' was how they could easily accomplish that. She knew she was inexperienced and had no right to judge, but what the hell was going through their heads?

"Heh, here comes Harling's murderer," High Roller taunted as Naomi made her turn and approach.

"She shot two missiles right between old Harling's eyes," Full Band put in, sounding almost wistful in a way, like he was telling some old folk story to his comrades. A few laughs followed this statement and Naomi rolled her eyes at them. This would indeed be a long flight.

Count scoffed. "Always in the know, aren't ya?" he asked his wingman.

"Haha! In this war, intel is a life or death matter." Full Band responded cheerfully, remaining close between High Roller and Tabloid. Naomi also noticed that Count and Champ stuck together. There was some sort of pattern here, as if it showed who they trusted more in the air. This theory was only proved more correct by the fact that they left Naomi to fend for herself at the tail end.

"Settle down," the voice of the AWACS sounded off once again. "Excited to have another murderer with you." Naomi distinctly heard someone in the squadron shout 'yeah!' at this, perhaps a bit to excitedly. She couldn't help but crack a small smile. At last, the voice introduced itself. "This is Bandog. Spare 15, _I'm_ the one handling surveillance. The bombers that attacked the runway are coming back for another round."

"What does it matter, though?" Naomi asked him, locating the bombers on radar and turning to intercept them. "It's a fake runway, they don't use it, so why bother defending it?"

"I _know_ it's just a dummy runway," Bandog snapped back with an edge of exasperation to his voice. "We're here to draw the enemy's fire from allied forces, and the place has to look legit. You guys just need to make a lot of noise. Make them _think_ there's fighters at the base." Naomi got the bomber's escorts attention and turned back towards the ocean to draw their attention away from the base. There _were_ fighters at the base, they just weren't allowed to do anything.

"Hey, anyone got a smoke? I'll owe ya one." Count said to anyone who would listen. _Oh great_, Naomi thought. Apparently Count was one of those guys. A cocky fighter pilot that smoked and/or drank to keep up his bad boy image. When she started flight training, there were three pilots like that in the same class as her. Long story short, only one made it through the first year.

Bandog went on, "If any of you die, just think of it as you atoning for your crimes." Naomi's missile warnings went off in her ear as the enemy got a lock on her. She pulled some evasive maneuvers, trying to shake the missile that the enemy escort had fired at her. "Oh, and one more thing," Bandog said. "Any aircraft leaving the operation area will be shot down. So don't even think about trying to make a run for it. You hear me?"

"Righto," Count answered for her, but it's possible the comment had been directed at all of them. Had they tried to escape before? They pulled some more evasive maneuvers, Naomi trying her best to fly near Count and study how he flew. She did the same with the others, figuring she could try and work in unison with her squadron if she kept a close eye on their styles. Easier said than done, since only Tabloid seemed willing to have her fly on his wing. Did they think she'd shoot them down? The weapons were locked, she couldn't fire on them even if she wanted to.

Someone in the control tower gave a laugh as the bombers and their escorts made a formation and headed in for another bombing run. "Look at them. Blowing up a bunch of paper airplanes." Naomi watched as their bombs hit the fake runway and blew up the fake planes and equipment.

"The enemy seems to think our air force is concentrated on this base!" Tabloid laughed.

"Wow," Naomi said, watching the Erusean bombers fall for the attack. "This is actually a…sort of clever idea."

"Everything on the ground is fake. Can't the enemy see that?" Full Band asked, almost as if he was bothered by the enemy not being smart enough to notice they weren't blowing up anything of any importance.

Tabloid chuckled. "Well, means they're that convincing. I heard the Scrap Queen played a part in that. I think the base commander ought to thank her once we drive these bombers off."

"Would it hurt him to thank us once in a while?" Count asked as he evaded an enemy missile, carefully maneuvering so that he was behind the enemy fighter, pretending to have a lock on him. Naomi had to admit, that was impressive. Count huffed as he broke off from the escorts to pursue one of the bombers. "I mean, we are the ones saving his sorry ass."

Just as he said that, some base personnel shouted, "Shit! The enemy hit the control tower!"

McKinsey's voice came on, a muffled booming in the background. "Hey! What's with all the shaking?!" he demanded, as someone in the background gave the order to send in the fire team. McKinsey growled at Bandog and Spare Squadron, "Do not let the enemy get any closer! Are you cons trying to kill me?" There was a click as he signed off and Naomi rolled her eyes as she made a dive for the fake airstrip and flew along it before pulling up, hoping to get a good look at the damage to the real air base. It seemed the Eruseans had finally figured out the act.

"Shall I order them to shoot down all?" Bandog asked the commander. There was a long pause and no response came. No response would come. Bandog waited a moment before he tried again, "Commander? Commander McKinsey?" No reply. Naomi wondered if their act was going to be kept up and how much longer it would last, or if they'd finally be given some leash and allowed to take down the enemy. She was getting tired of dodging missiles and doing nothing. Was this what they did all day? Was this all they ever did? At last, Bandog gave them their next orders. And Naomi wasn't complaining. "Ugh...Spare Squadron, listen up. Shoot down everything carrying bombs. Weapons free. You're cleared to engage. Show no mercy."

Naomi checked the weapons by firing off the gun. They were free now. Perfect. The chatter from the others commenced almost immediately. "Righto!" Count chirped and hurried after the escorts, which Naomi thought was a poor way to prioritize.

"Why didn't you tell us that from the start?" Tabloid demanded as he fell in place beside Naomi, much to her surprise. It seemed like he was just instinctively covering the nearest wingman.

"Yeah, Tabloid's right. We could have been done by now if we'd had missiles," Full Band remarked, forming up with High Roller. He sighed, "Moving to engage."

"I'm going to have to rethink the odds," High Roller said cheerfully. "Wanna bet which one of us gets the first kill, Trigger?"

"I don't have to," Naomi replied, perhaps growing a little cocky the longer she flew with these guys. It had only been a short while, but with her adrenaline going and the banter between them, she was starting to loosen up. "It'll either be me or Mr. High Horse in the Flanker."

Count ignored her comment, instead moving to boss his squadron mates around. "All right, as I said, I'm assuming command. All aircraft, support me!" With this, Naomi saw his plane twist through the clouds as he moved in on one of the MiG-29s, trying to get a lock on them.

"Who's gonna dance to your lyin' tune?" Champ asked.

"I'll show you all how it's done," Count answered simply.

While her new squadron mates began to tangle with the escorts, Naomi took the time to take the bombers head on. There were two that she could see, plus a few Su-33s similar in appearance to Count's plane that were flying escort. She could focus on them later. Right now, the bombers took priority. If they shot down the bombers, the escorts would have no choice but to withdraw and Spare would be allowed to land. Naomi hit the afterburners, speeding up as fast as she could. She got a lock on the bomber towards the rear of their 'formation' and she fired to missiles head on.

The Erusean Tu-95 exploded, unable to evade the missiles. Naomi grinned and pulled up so she was almost vertical, then pulled back, not once reducing speed as she angled the plane's belly towards the sky. She got a lock and rolled her plane back into its normal position right as she fired, watching the missiles strike their target. She pushed down and then pulled back up, ducking the fighter underneath the ball of smoke, flames, and debris. Tabloid, who had been taking care of the escorts for the bombers Naomi took out, suddenly announced, "Trigger just shot down a bomber. Two of them! She takes the first kill, gentlemen!"

"That was some fancy flying, Miss Murderer," Count said to her, actually sounding as close to being impressed as she'd heard him come all morning. "But can you keep it up?"

"We'll see." Naomi could finally feel herself getting the feel for the place at last. Being back in the air sure helped with that. As she headed out to intercept another group of bombers, she called out to Count, "Hey, Count. How about some friendly competition? Just you, me, and the Eruseans. Mostly just you and me, though." Naomi figured that this was as good a way as any to earn her spot. Obviously, she'd have to do more than this, but it was a starting point. Besides, she and Boggard and Footpad used to have competitions for kill scores, so why couldn't she do the same with Count here?

"Hmm. Alright, you're on, Trigger." Count said, accepting her challenge. Naomi couldn't help but grin at this. Things didn't seem so bad after all, and she actually found the interaction in the air to be…entertaining. These guys actually seemed like a lot of fun, if she took some time to get to know them. And she officially had her first rival. Obviously she had it out for Count, but whatever the reasoning he had for accepting the challenge was something that would take her a while to figure out. "Keep an eye on your head count, we can compare later."

"Yeah. I'm betting that report will get dressed up real pretty." Tabloid said sarcastically, almost amused by the situation. There was a pause before Tabloid then said, "God, I can't wait until we land. I'm sick and tired of them sending us convicts up to put on a show. It's just messed up."

"Can't believe I'm agreeing with you, Tabloid," Count said, having finally taken down what Naomi figured was his first kill that day. "Honestly, this shit pisses me off more than it scares me."

"Shut your mouth and pay attention!" Bandog snapped at them. "Incoming hostile group is detected. A bomber's at high altitude, so stop watching your own asses and look up!"

Naomi checked her radar and then pulled up to find the bomber, dodging a missile as she climbed after it. The escorts were becoming annoying. Tabloid seemed willing to keep them off of her for now, or at least take care of the ones that just happened to be trying to get a lock on her, but the others had a sporadic kill pattern. In fact, they were moving and fighting ridiculously. They'd fire a missile and move on, regardless of whether they'd hit it or not. The only organized pilots appeared to be Count and Tabloid, but that was questionable. How many actually _did_ know how to fly?

She sighed, getting a lock and firing. The target was hit and burst into flames. "Count, that's number three! I'm on a roll, so you better keep up unless you want to lose the top score around here."

"No way anyone's taking the top score from me," Count said confidently, chasing down a bomber and hitting it. He finished it off with his gun rather than a missile. "It's in my blood."

Naomi shook her head. She had an idea, but she didn't know if anyone would listen to her. Regardless, it was worth a shot, "Hey, Tabloid. I know we just met and all that and this is my first time flying with you, but I was thinking maybe you and I could work together to get this done faster." Naomi shook off an enemy Su-33, circling carefully with a high-G turn and getting a lock on the escort and firing at it. The missile hit, but it didn't destroy it, leaving the loyal escort to continue limping through his work.

Tabloid must have been intrigued by her offer, as he radioed back, "Alright, I'll bite. What did you have in mind, Trigger?"

"Okay, form up on my wing," Naomi ordered, leveling out and waiting for Tabloid to do as she said. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he did as she told him to. "Now, I want you to cover me. There's a group of bombers coming in dead ahead. They've got three bombers and three escorts. I can hit the first escort head on and take down the bombers. Tabloid, what I'm trusting you to do is take care of the escorts and keep them off of my tail so I can focus more on the bombers and less on the dodging of missiles. Sound good?"

There was a moment of silence as Tabloid considered her offer. "Hmm, alright, I'm with you Trigger. You seem to know what you're doing for the most part, so I'll give it a shot." As they approached the group, Naomi sped up, getting a lock on the escort at the lead of the formation and taking it out just like she said she would, moving on to the bombers. Tabloid played his part, breaking off to tangle with the remaining two escorts as they turned to defend the bombers from Naomi. He got the first one, then the second, chasing them both high into the clouds and back down. Naomi, for one was impressed by the display, but she focused on the last two bombers, hitting them both with no problem.

A straying MiG-29 from another group came down on Tabloid and Naomi reacted quickly. Tabloid pulled up to evade the missile that the MiG had on him, climbing into the clouds to lose their lock, and Naomi shot between the two, getting the Erusean pilot's attention. The MiG went after Naomi, but she had a trick up her sleeve. Typically, it was easier done with newer, faster planes, but she figured she had a chance. She'd seen it demonstrated at an air show once, when she was much younger. Naomi sped her own plane up, causing her pursuer to do the same thing, then at the last minute she pulled into a vertical position and hit the brakes. The MiG shot past her and she leveled out, now behind him. She had a lock and had fired before he'd even fully registered what had just happened.

"Wow," Tabloid breathed out. "Look at Trigger go."

"Lucky shot," Count snapped.

Naomi sighed to herself in frustration. Of course he wasn't going to ease up on her. Maybe she just needed to act like she had nothing to prove. After all, as far as she was concerned, she didn't have anything to prove other than her innocence. She turned on another bomber, firing blindly without realizing she wasn't close enough for a lock. The missiles went straight ahead, completely missing the target, just as she suspected. Instinctively she spat, "Shit, I missed!"

"That's because you're too far away, dunce!" Count snarled at her. "Get closer to the target and maybe you can actually hit it."

Naomi held back a sharp comment as she did just that, Bandog ordering them to just focus on destroying the targets and stop talking, stating they needed to stop 'flapping their gums' or something along those lines. She was paying more attention to doing as Bandog told them and shooting the bomber down, which was coming uncomfortably close to the control tower. She got a lock and didn't wait another second before taking care of the bomber and moving on to that ones remaining escort.

Champ let out a short breath. "At least she's decent at what she's famous for."

"I wouldn't go that far," Count replied as he finished off an Su-33. "Targets that slow aren't a challenge. Don't let it go to your head, murderer." Naomi winced at his comment. Was that her new nickname? She was just going to be addressed as 'murderer' by everyone? At the very least, by Count? Maybe she could find out what Count did to get sent there and start calling him by his crime.

"Spare Squadron, multiple bandits inbound," Bandog announced to them suddenly. "They got bombers _and_ support. They're going all out today. Take care of 'em." Naomi checked her radar. There were two groups. One was closer to the base, a higher priority. The second group was close, but not close enough to be taken care of right away. They could wait until the first group was destroyed and turn around to clean out the remainder of the bombers. That ought to do it.

Count had other plans, not thinking the situation through thoroughly enough before he started giving orders and making up a plan. "All aircraft, follow me!" he called out. To Naomi, he added, "You too murderer!"

Naomi ignored him and went to take care of the first group. Since he and the others were going after the second, she had plenty of time to deal with them. Tabloid seemed to have the same idea as she did, pulling away from the others to follow her. "Jeez, now he thinks he's squadron leader," Tabloid said bitterly, almost in a mocking tone. "You and the others deal with those guys, Count. I'm helping Trigger out."

"Thanks, Tabloid. I know we just met and all, so I really owe you one." Naomi said to him. Looking at the formation she could see two bombers and one escort at high altitude. "This time I'll handle the escort and you can get the bombers. Unless you don't want to, of course, I'm not trying to take command or anything." She was glad she had someone on her side, but at the same time she knew she could screw it up if she got too bossy with him. Besides, she was still new to the squadron and didn't want Count to hate her for stepping on his toes. He might not officially be the leader but most of the squadron seemed fine with him and he was admittedly a pretty good pilot. Fun competition so far, anyways.

"Sounds fine with me, Trigger," Tabloid replied. Naomi sighed with relief, trying to think of how she could repay him. "Anything that increases the chances of getting out alive, right?"

"Yeah, Trigger!" High Roller laughed. His laugh was grating, all scratchy and breathy at the same time, yet he still did it. Naomi wondered if he thought everything around him was just the funniest thing ever. He seemed like it. "Don't get shot down, now! I got good money riding on your survival. _Some_ guys have got big money riding on you going down, so watch your back, eh?"

"Spare 7, shut up!" Bandog growled at High Roller. "You don't need to yap to pull the trigger."

High Roller laughed again. "I shoulda put it all on Trigger!" Naomi fired a missile at the escort and then finished it off with the gun and then turning to help Tabloid with the second bomber, prompting High Roller to shout, "Bet ya killed Harling with your guns too, didn't ya Trigger?" He chuckled and Naomi once again found herself rolling her eyes. Didn't they know that she was accused of firing a missile at him? Big difference.

Tabloid, now that he was looking for more targets and straying from Naomi to go off on his own, he began to test out his plane's capabilities by diving and pulling up at the last minute and performing a few rolls. "Y'know, this is a pretty nice ride. It's been serviced pretty good," he said, his cheerful demeanor returning. "Can't believe things things used to be scrap, can you Trigger?"

"I heard about that, but I'll admit it is hard to believe," Naomi replied with a nod. "That girl — Avril's her name, right? — is…something else. I barely even talked to her and she's made a lasting impression." She thought back to their brief interaction in the hangar, not exactly blaming her for having a bad attitude.

"Yeah…" Tabloid answered, almost in a wistful way. "Just what kinda magic does she have up her sleeves, anyway?"

"I don't know what her problem is," High Roller added scornfully. "Acting like she's royalty or something."

Count gave a dry laugh at the comment. "That's because she's the 'Scrap Queen'."

"Queen?" Champ echoed with a snort. "More like a bad-tempered tomboy. What's worse is now we've got two of 'em."

"The targets are still active. Shut your mouths and keep up the attack," Bandog ordered them. Naomi groaned in annoyance, following the rest of the squadron as they began to pick off the last of the escorts and leave the last of the bombers defenseless. She shot down an Su-33 and then turned to the last of the bombers, choosing to gun one of them down. She fired one missile to finish it off and moved onto the last two.

"What the hell are you doing?!" McKinsey's voice demanded out of nowhere. "Are you try—"

Naomi was surprised when Bandog cut him off and said smoothly, "Wilco. Commander McKinsey, please maintain silence for the moment." Naomi chuckled at him cutting off the base commander, knowing that he was probably just going to yell at them just by the way he was talking. She checked her radar, seeing that there were only two targets remaining. Naomi climbed as high as she could before starting a dive to come down on top of one of the bombers. "Spare 15, what the hell are you doing? Attack already!"

"Get on their ass if you want to score, Trigger. It's quicker that way," Tabloid advised, but Naomi didn't listen. She was within range to fire, but also had enough time to turn away and take out the last one over the base before it could make its run. Naomi got a lock, fired, then pulled away, catching sight of the explosion out of the corner of her eyes and then she started towards the last bomber. Tabloid sounded genuinely pleased and impressed when he spoke again. "Well, then. Trigger got most of them. Maybe even all of them."

"That was dumb luck, Tabloid!" Count spat at his wingman. Naomi gritted her teeth, feeling awkward by the attention and praise she was receiving from Tabloid combined with the disapproval and annoyance from Count.

"Spare 15, don't take all the fun away from your comrades," Bandog ordered.

Naomi sighed, but pulled away from the bomber. She could shoot down the last escort and let someone else handle that one. "Alright, fine then. I'll try some dogfighting with the escorts," Naomi announced. "Count, Champ, why don't you two handle the last bomber?"

"Oh yeah!" Champ yelled in response. "Let's do this!"

"Spare 8, watch your mouth," Bandog ordered.

Naomi took out one escort, leaving one more to take out. At a lower altitude, Count and Champ moved in on the last bombers. Naomi noticed that two others had moved in from the clouds that they hadn't been able to see and the two of them were splitting up to take them on. Tabloid chuckled, "Well, at least we know the paper-mâché strategy at the base seems to be doing the trick. Guess every man and his dog has an idea about how to end the war."

"Pipe down and keep your mind on the mission," Bandog scolded her. "There's one bandit left. Take him down _now_."

Naomi shot down the last escort and then began a dive on the last bomber, Count moving in to take on the same target. "First come, first served," Count chirped, surprisingly cheerful. Naomi fired a missile at the same time Count chose to and both missiles hit, destroying the bomber in an unintentional act of teamwork. Naomi pulled out of her dive before she could collide with Count. She barely missed him, grunting as she pulled up sharply and turned to circle around the base.

"All targets confirmed eliminated." Bandog announced.

The squadron cheered victoriously, High Roller's voice sounding the loudest. "Hell yeah! Still alive, Harling's murderer?!"

"Yeah," Naomi breathed out. "Just barely though. Sorry, Count." She heard him grumble in reply.

"Well, then dinner's on me tonight!" High Roller shouted.

"Cut the chatter, Spare Squadron," Bandog ordered. He paused, likely checking the radar to make sure no more enemies were incoming. "Mission complete. RTB." Naomi sighed with relief. Bandog chuckled, "I'm amazed Trigger's still with us. Must have the devil in her corner. Hey, Spare 7, what happens if the one you've bet on dies while landing?" Something about the way he said that made her feel uncomfortable, like he'd find a way to sabotage her landing or something equally as ridiculous. God knows how he'd manage that, though.

"Well, then you win," High Roller responded calmly. "So…what? You're not done?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Bandog brushed it off. "Just checking. That's all."

* * *

**0900hrs.**

The morning had dragged on, and Naomi had to circle around the base for a few minutes until everyone else had landed. It was a while before she was given permission to begin her approach. "Spare 15, this is the control tower," they said to her. "Make your landing checks. We don't want a wreck blocking the runway." Naomi banked towards the runway. "Spare 15, you have permission to land. Wind conditions are calm, so you better not have any trouble."

She made slight adjustments and corrections to her course, trying to get it over and done with. "3,000 meters. Too fast, lower your airspeed," they instructed. Naomi barely did as she was told, making a sharp turn to get on the correct path. She hit the brakes as she got closer to the tarmac. "You're past the guidance limit. Make a visual landing."

The muffled screeching sound of the wheels hitting the runway and the slight lurch of the plane as it made contact told her to slow down. She hit the breaks hard and eventually slowed to a stop. The control tower snarled in her ear, "That plane is worth more than your life. Show it some respect next time. Now go and stand by for your next sortie."

Before she could do anything else, she heard Bandog snap at her, "I lost a lot of money for that, Trigger. Don't forget." That must of been his nice way of saying that he'd been hoping she'd die. Or, at the very least crash.

Sighing, she yanked herself free of the straps and belts and nearly threw her helmet off as the canopy opened, climbing out and onto the ladder that had been pushed up to the plane. It was the ground crew's problem now, but she had to admit that she had a bit of a fondness for the plane, looking at it as the crew surrounded it to check for any damage done to it, such as bullet or burn marks. Naomi looked it over from a distance, cringing at the white marks marring its tail. She'd ask someone about it later.

As she turned around to face the hangar, she saw Count, Tabloid, and Full Band carrying out a conversation. Count saw her and his eyes narrowed as he visibly tensed. He said something to the others and stormed away, straight towards Naomi. She groaned inwardly. Did everyone have it out for her now? As soon as she was within earshot, he started to yell at her, drawing closer, "Hey, watch it next time, murderer! You nearly slammed into me, you dumbass!" Naomi crossed her arms, making eye contact and straightening up as he stared her down. He was a good four inches taller than she was, and she didn't trust him enough to back down and just walk away. Not while he was that angry.

"But I didn't, did I?" Naomi countered. He clenched his teeth, sucking in a sharp breath. "Listen, I helped you with that last bomber, Count. Furthermore, I outdid you."

"Whatever," Count seethed, but he seemed to be calming down. "That doesn't mean shit. You have to do a lot more than stupid airshow tricks and taking down a few bombers to earn your respect around here. Being a girl doesn't earn you special treatment." He relaxed and backed down, running a hand through his hair and taking a few calming breaths. Naomi rolled her eyes at him, perking up when she noticed Tabloid and Full Band approaching behind him. Count turned around when he heard them coming.

"Sorry to interrupt your argument, ladies—" Tabloid said, clapping Count on the shoulder, "—but Commander McKinsey has an awful temper, and Bandog keeps barking at us to head to the debriefing." He and Count exchanged a look before Tabloid shrugged and turned away. "High Roller is making a bet on whether or not we're goin' into solitary, but I got a pretty strong feeling that that's what's gonna happen. It isn't really a bet worth taking, y'know?" He began to walk in the direction of the main building, Full Band close behind.

Count waited a moment, glaring at Naomi before he followed the rest of the squadron. Naomi hesitated, and Count called over his shoulder, "Come on, murderer. You're about to get your first taste of solitary." She looked back at the hangar and sighed, rubbing some sweat off of her forehead before she began a slow march after the others. There was no rest for the wicked, it would seem.


	10. Trust and Tests

Chapter Nine: Trust and Tests

|…|…|…|

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**July 1st, 2019.**_  
**1600hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Naomi leaned her head back against the smooth walls of her new friend, solitary confinement. McKinsey had not been happy that they'd shot down the bombers without his permission, so he sent them all to solitary, insisting they miss out on breakfast and lunch and they could come back out before dinnertime. The cell was dark, way too hot and dusty, but there was enough room for her to just barely move around. Coughing fits hadn't been uncommon in the last few hours, and she could even hear her fellow inmates coughing every once and a while.

It had been a little after nine o' clock when they'd been thrown in there, and as the day dragged on, the hotter it became. This had to be some form of torture, right? It gave her time to think, yes, but not about what she'd done wrong. No, it made her think about whether or not McKinsey was sane. It also made her think about how she'd rather be in Osea, or back at Fort Grays, not stuck in this hell hole.

At last, the sound of footsteps and guards talking came from outside and she heard the latch on the cell door open up. She squinted against the sudden sunlight before someone grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her out of the cell, dropping her onto the hard ground. Naomi grunted, coughing as more dirt filled her lungs. Her eyes adjusted and she rolled over to look around her, feeling a little. Count put a hand to his head as he sat up, groaning a few feet away. Soon they were joined by Tabloid, Full Band, and soon enough the entire squadron had been released from solitary.

"There," one of the guards snapped at them, taking a step back away. "I hope that taught you all a lesson." He looked at the wristwatch he had and then at the setting sun in the distance. "Dinner is in an hour. You have until then to wash up and get your worthless asses in gear." Naomi glared at them as she stood up. She attempted to follow the others as she began to drag their feet to the showers, but the guard stopped her. "Hold on, there, Trigger. McKinsey wants to speak with you before you go, so you're coming with me. The rest of you, stop wasting time and hurry it along!"

Naomi began a tired walk alongside the guard as he accompanied her away from the area where they kept the cells for solitary. The main building wasn't too far away from the yard, so it was only about a three minute walk through the scorching heat. The guards didn't look at all uncomfortable in the weather, then again, they hadn't been locked away to be toasted for six or seven hours. The only thing that didn't keep her from falling to her knees from exhaustion was the thought of the air conditioning inside the building.

Once inside the dirty gray building, she let out a sigh of relief and took a long, deep breath. It wasn't exactly what one could consider fresh air, but it was cold and it was probably the cleanest they had around this dump. The guard continued his escort to McKinsey's office, reaching the door and giving it a firm knock. McKinsey called out to them, "What do you want?"

"It's Sergeant Baker, sir," the guard replied. "I've brought you Harling's murderer, just like you requested."

There was a pause on the other side before McKinsey answered, "Go ahead and let her in." The guard opened the door and like they had on her first day, he shoved her inside and slammed it shut behind her. The office was darker now that it wasn't receiving any direct sunlight. In the torn up couch by the window, the Scrap Queen was sitting, her arms spread across the back and a leg with a brace on it was stretched out. She looked pissed, and most of her anger seemed directed at McKinsey, although she gave a cold look when Naomi entered the office. McKinsey greeted her. "Well, Trigger, how'd you like your first trip to solitary?"

Naomi scowled at him. "It was fine," she lied, not wanting him to see that she was feeling the long term effects from it. And to think the heat had been the only thing on her mind. Right now, the air conditioning was probably all that was keeping her from collapsing. She regarded Avril curiously before she crossed her arms and turned back to McKinsey. "Is there some reason you called me here, Commander? Because I'd really like to shower and get something to eat. Unless, of course, you're revoking my food privileges like you did to Count and Champ the last time you tossed them in solitary?"

"No, you're still allowed to eat. For now, at least, but don't try my patience," McKinsey warned. Nodding to Avril, he turned the subject around to why he'd had her brought there to begin with. "I've spoken with Avril just now about the cell situation. I want some cells at the ready in case we get more prisoners, so I'm putting the two of you together to save space. I figured you should be formally introduced to one another. Avril, this is Trigger. Trigger, Avril. If you're thinking about having a little catfight, go ahead and get it out of your system. I expect you both to at least act like you get along."

Avril let out an impatient huff, standing up and limping towards Naomi. She hadn't paid attention to the limp or the leg brace to begin with. How'd she get that? Naomi wondered, looking her up and down. Avril was only about an inch taller than she was, with tanned skin stained with grease and a messy black pixie-cut. She was at least two or three years older than her, Naomi would have guessed. As Avril drew closer, Naomi tensed up, bracing herself for some sort of argument to ensue. Instead, the woman simply held out her hand and said gruffly and matter-of-factly, "I'll help you move your stuff in. The bottom bunk's mine."

Naomi hesitated, unsure what to think. Avril was a rough type, just like everyone else in the unit, it would seem. Finally, she accepted the handshake, holding back a wince as their hands made contact. Although she didn't know why she should have expected much less, Naomi was taken aback by the roughness of Avril's hand. Calluses and dirt made her skin dry, and Naomi recognized this as some form of 'Mechanic's Hands' as they were so appropriately called. They both let go at the same time, Naomi subconsciously wiping her hands on her flight suit. Avril must have noticed, since the corners of her mouth twitched, as if fighting off a deeper scowl.

They both looked to McKinsey, waiting for permission to leave. He had turned away from them, but seemed to sense them staring at him. Without looking up, he waved a hand to dismiss them, "Go on and get outta here. I've got nothin' else to say to the two of you. If I hear about any fighting, you're both going on a long trip to solitary. Understood?" Both of them gave stiff nods in response. "Good. Dismissed. Send in the guards in on your way out."

Avril led the way, practically yanking the door open, not watching to make sure she didn't nearly hit Naomi, who followed foolishly close behind. Naomi clenched her jaw and stepped out, noticing Avril didn't say anything to the guards as she limped past them. "McKinsey wants a word with you, Sergeant Baker," she said, offering him a fake grin and gesturing behind her with her thumb. "Thanks for the escort, boys." The plan to keep her mouth shut was really hard to follow, so she decided that from here on out she could just wing it and hope for the best. She was a pilot after all.

"Hey, kid!" Naomi looked up to see Avril waiting for her by the door, an impatient look on her face. How the hell did she get all the way over there that fast? The building setup was somewhat odd, yes, but one might think it would still be difficult to navigate with one leg. "If you don't want to starve then I suggest you get your ass moving and stop harassing the guards. I can assure you, they hate you enough as it is." Naomi took a deep breath to calm down before she followed the older woman. Avril didn't even flinch when she opened the door and stepped into the scorching summer heat. Naomi didn't want to leave the air conditioning, but she didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

The weather had cooled off now that the day was starting to come to an end. It wasn't much of an improvement, but a light, comfortable breeze helped with the adjustment, even if it scattered some dust in her face. Avril limped along as fast as she could to get back to the cellblock, and Naomi found that she was surprisingly agile, in spite of having a stiff, uncooperative metal and plastic brace attached to her leg. Naomi took an interest in this, fishing for conversation starters and running with the first one she found. "So…uh…Avril, is it? What'd you do to your leg?"

She fixed Naomi with a cold stare, dark brown eyes looking surprisingly icy. Naomi didn't shrink away, instead she chose to focus on her surroundings as Avril took her sweet time answering. Finally, she gave a gruff, simple response, "A bad crash landing. Wound up with a concussion and this damned thing." It seemed as though she purposefully made it straightforward and simple. She summed the whole story up so she didn't have to have any further discussion. Clever little tactic, but if Naomi was going to have to share a cell with her in this hellhole then she might as well get to know her.

"So, you were a pilot then?" Naomi prodded, knowing enough of her background to know why she was here. But she wanted to try and bond with her fellow inmate and woman, even if Avril didn't seem interested in it. "Pretty cool…so, I guess you were in the air force?" Avril glanced at her, shaking her head firmly. There was a change in her expression when Naomi asked the question. She wouldn't pry any further there. "Well…okay, not in the air force then…so how'd a civilian pilot like yourself wind up as a mechanic for a penal unit?"

Avril sighed with frustration and stopped abruptly, placing her hands on her hips and turning around to look Naomi straight in the eyes. "Listen to me carefully," she said sternly. "I don't know you, and I have no desire to know you. You don't deserve my trust and you don't deserve to know my life story, or whatever the hell it is you're trying to get at. We're cellmates and that's as close as we're gonna get. Got it?" Naomi nodded, finding that she wasn't all that surprised by Avril's reaction.

Everyone here just seemed to genuinely hate everyone and everything. Maybe even themselves. Could she really blame them? Naomi looked out at the desolate runway and hangars, the damaged control tower, the razor wire fence, then at the building where all the cells were housed. The answer was simple. She really couldn't. This place would beat the fight and cheerfulness out of just about anybody. It was only just now starting to get to her, now that she realized no one around her was anything like her squadron at Fort Grays. They do say that you never know what you have until it's gone.

The pair made their way inside and down the dim hallway, past empty cells. Avril stopped at her cell, sliding the door open. "Here we are," she said flatly, placing her hands on her hips again and shifting her weight off of her injured leg. "Home sweet home." Naomi looked inside it. Not much different from her own cell, other than the fact that the bed was on a different side of the cell, off to the right when you entered. Adding to the different position, it was a cell with a bunk bed, made to accommodate more than one person. By the sink, there was a hole in the wall, likely the place that the rats called their home base.

Naomi gestured to her old cell, right beside the one she now shared with Avril. "Let me just go and grab my bag. It'll only take a second." Indeed, she simply stepped into her already open cell, grabbed her duffle bag off of the cot and snatched up the bar of soap as well. Since two people would be using the soap, now, the faster it would be before they ended up needing a replacement. Just because the area around them was filthy didn't mean they had to let their personal hygiene suffer for it just to blend in. Naomi set the newer bar of soap beside the smaller, used bar on the sink, tossing her bag up on the top bunk. She looked back at Avril, standing in the entrance to the cell. "There. All moved in."

"Great, now let's lay down some house rules," Avril said with a fake smile. "First and most importantly: We're not friends. Second: I don't do any girly gossip or chit chatting about guys or celebrities. I frankly don't give a damn about either, so keep it to yourself. Third: You better be on your best behavior. This means no threats, no giving me any reason to think you might kill me in my sleep, and no 'fantasizing' about anyone or anything. Four: No talking when I'm trying to fall asleep." She paused and thought for a moment. "Yeah, that should be it. I'll tell you if I can think of any others. Any comments?"

"Well, none. But I would like to tell you that those rules should be pretty easy to follow for several reasons. One: I never thought we were. Two: I don't do that and I don't give a damn about them either. Three: Why would I do any of those? And four: I fall asleep pretty fast, so no worries there." Naomi played it cool. It was all true, so she had no reason to lie to make herself look better. "Believe me, you'll hardly know that I'm here. And we can avoid each other as much as possible if you'd prefer that. Sound good?"

Avril took a moment to consider this before she nodded slowly. "Fine by me." She turned around and began to limp away, leaving Naomi alone in the cell. "See you around," the mechanic called over her shoulder. "Watch your back out there." Naomi watched her leave, hearing the sound of the main door let out a metallic screech as it was opened. She heard Avril's uneven footsteps slowly fade off.

Sighing and taking a look around, she took a quick look around the cell. The guards did sweeps of their cells before they went to bed, sometimes during the day while they were out, just to make sure they didn't sweep any weapons in or anything that wasn't permitted. At the same time, Naomi didn't exactly trust the prisoners here. They seemed sneaky enough so that if they didn't want something found, you wouldn't find it. Avril was no exception, and she wanted to make sure that her new cellmate wasn't hiding a wrench or something in here that she could bludgeon her with.

The search turned up nothing, not that she expected much to come from it, so Naomi set aside her worries and grabbed a change of clothes so she could hit the shower. Outside, the sky had started to turn a mix of purple, red, and orange as the sun began to sink lower and lower beyond the horizon. The dark blue that had been present throughout the day was nearly impossible to make out in the mix of colors. It was beautiful, but the massive fences and guard towers and overall mood of the base around them took away from it. Naomi found it difficult to appreciate it a whole lot.

Everyone had gone in for dinner now, only a few guards outside. The most activity came from the runway. Naomi could hear a barking sound coming from that direction, and as she glanced that way she could make out the silhouette of a man and a dog playing what appeared to be fetch. The sound of the animal's handler praising it carried on the wind, and the dog seemed more than happy for the break from its normal duties of guarding prisoners all day. She managed a small smile at this, perhaps realizing that the guards did have some sort of emotions was comforting in a way. That and it was nice to see something with more life than the prisoners around her. At least the guards' dogs were enjoying their life.

Shaking her head, she continued on her way.

* * *

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**July 2nd, 2019.**_  
**0900hrs.**

Another day in hell started right on schedule. They were all woke up at 0400hrs, then sent to help clean up any damage done by their battle the previous day. After a few hours they were allowed breakfast, and then McKinsey was kind enough to give them the rest of the day to take care of their planes. While Avril and the other mechanics worked on minor repairs, the pilots took care of the cleaning of their fighters, fixing the dents, and touching up the paint. Dirty soap and discolored water coated most of the hangar floors as they worked with what little they were given.

Each hangar, when the squadron wasn't being scrambled, had as many planes as it could hold without creating any issues crammed inside. The hangar Naomi's plane was in also held Count's Su-33, Tabloid's Mirage 2000-5, Full Band's F/A-18, and lastly Champ's MiG-29. Each pilot worked with their own plane, mostly keeping to themselves. Full Band was lucky enough to have an WSO to help him out. Naomi hadn't paid any of her new squadron much mind that day. High Roller and Tabloid had sat with her at dinner the night before, but Tabloid wasn't very talkative that day.

Growing tired of the silence, Naomi sighed and brushed some sweat off of her brow. She glanced over at Count, who was busying himself with scrubbing the canopy. The rest of the plane was still a mess, with Count working one section at a time and spending a lot of time on each one. The tail had been the first part he'd taken care of, likely so his personal emblem was visible under the grime. Luckily he didn't have obtrusive white lines.

Turning towards Tabloid with a topic in mind, now, she tried to start a conversation. "Hey, Tabloid?" He perked up and turned around upon hearing his name. "I've got a question for you."

"Alright, shoot," he said. "What's on your mind?"

"I was just thinking about something. What do these damned lines on the tails of our planes signify?" she asked him.

She didn't have to wait long for an answer. Tabloid gave a dry chuckle, "Oh, yeah. Only a matter of time before that one came up. Y'see, they're here as a mark of our crimes. Something to remind us that we're worthless in their eyes."

"So, what do the differences in the number of them mean? I noticed Champ has two, you, Count, and Full Band only have one. Why's that?" Naomi elaborated on her question. She heard an echoing laugh from where Full Band was as he ducked under Tabloid's plane and approached them, wiping his hands with a dirty rag. She raised an eyebrow as he stopped to stand beside Tabloid, his laughter slowly dying off. "Something funny, Full Band?"

He shook his head, slinging the rag over his shoulder. "Yeah, how naive you kids are. Allow me to educate you," Full Band said. "In this unit, you get your tail marked with scratches; the more scratches, the more heinous the crime. We call 'em 'sin lines'. Most of us have one, Champ and Wrestler have two, and as for you..." He trailed off, eyes flicking towards her plane's tail. Naomi frowned and followed his gaze before looking back at Full Band. He gave a small smile. "You see, you have three scratches, right Trigger?" She nodded in response. "Well, no surprise there. After all, you _are_ Harling's murderer."

"Who came up with the idea to mark our planes up like that?" Naomi asked. "Was it McKinsey?"

To her surprise, it was Count that answered. He practically slid down from the ladder pressed up against his plane, his feet hitting the ground with a small, wet clack before he made his way over to the small group. He came up behind Naomi, pretending to examine her plane before he casually replied with, "Only partly. Bandog had some say in it too." Naomi blinked, giving him a curious look.

Count sighed and offered forward an explanation, "Oh, that's right. I forgot, you're still new here. Well, Bandog, as you see, hates us. And on top of that, he takes every chance he can to remind us that we're worthless as far as Osea is concerned. As a way to dehumanize us, he suggested to McKinsey that he mark our tails with these stupid sin lines so the only thing that matters is our crimes. It makes our deaths a bit easier to live with, so they don't feel like there's any blood on their hands."

"That seems awfully…harsh." Naomi commented, looking down at the ground.

Count shrugged. "Yeah, well, welcome to the 444th Squadron."

"He's right," Tabloid answered. "That's just the way things are around here. And if you don't like it, well, there's always a cell they're more than happy to send you to in solitary." Naomi watched as they all returned to their planes, the conversation ending just as quickly as it had begun. Tabloid lingered for a moment, as if wracking his brain for a way to continue the conversation. In the end, he simply sighed and went to find a wrench.

Taking a last look at her 'sin lines', Naomi went back to cleaning her plane before McKinsey or the guards monitoring them got upset and threw them in solitary because they weren't doing what they were supposed to be at the time.

* * *

**Erusea Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
_**July 3rd, 2019.**_  
**1300hrs.**

The faint roar of an engine caught the attention of the base personnel one hot summer afternoon. The pilots from Mihaly's squadron took a break from work to see what the commotion was about. Even Schroeder pulled himself away from his computer to look out of the hangar and out at the runway. A transport plane had just landed and was slowly coming to a stop. Mihaly's granddaughters were standing side by side, patiently — yet eagerly — awaiting the plane, with Mihaly watching from his seat just outside the hangar. Schroeder wasn't aware of anyone coming out to visit, but nearly everyone else seemed expectant.

Perhaps the ground crew simply didn't bother sharing that sort of information with the scientists working with Mihaly, or perhaps they themselves hadn't known until recently. But as the plane came to a stop, the elegant red rose emblem on its tail glinting briefly in the sun, it was clear that the newcomers were of some importance. What importance exactly, however, was a mystery to Schroeder. The door-like rectangle in the side of the plane slowly lowered down to the ground, revealing steps for its passengers to use to board and exit.

Schroeder watched as Ionela led the way to the plane, her sister trailing close behind. Out of the plane stepped a young woman, not much older than Ionela, dressed elegantly in all white, her golden hair held up by what appeared to be a simple, silver tiara. It shimmered as the sun hit it and Schroeder watched clearly as she looked out at her surroundings. Her expression was serious, and her face was familiar to Schroeder, although he couldn't place it. A lively golden retriever barked and leapt down from the steps, racing over to greet Ionela and Alma.

The young lady watched and gave a small laugh, her lips curling into a radiant smile as she followed her pet over to Mihaly's granddaughters. It was when he saw her smile and begin speaking with Ionela that Schroeder was able to recognize her. The fair, expressive features and perfect posture, coupled with the tiara and expensive, tailored dress and jacket she wore. This was Erusea's new ruler's daughter, Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise. The TV in the crew room on the site always had ENN playing, and the princess — although only recently having turned eighteen — had been giving many speeches in the days following the war, traveling her country to visit different cities. Obviously loyal to her father and country, Schroeder wasn't surprised that so many in her own country, as well as others, seemed to adore her.

Schroeder kept his gaze fixed on the three of them, having an animated, cheerful conversation. It was obvious that the three knew one another from the way they were talking and had greeted one another. It didn't come as some sort of great shock. Just the night before, Mihaly had been speaking with his wingman about their lost nation. Mihaly held a great status at one time, having been the heir to the nation of Shilage. Shilage was now a state in Erusea and Mihaly barely spoke of his homeland any longer. Schroeder could easily see how the Erusean royal family would have some sort of relationship with the Shilage family.

"Massa," Schroeder called out the name of his assistant, finding himself somewhat entranced while he was watching the princess speak. Even if he couldn't hear her, he now knew why so many listened to and took the time to watch her speeches. He wasn't much of a political man, preferring science and technology to humans and petty politics. Politics were behind most, if not all wars, in his eyes. Why should he pay attention to something so troublesome? Yet the princess seemed too young and kind for the brutality of war and politics. It seemed like a mistake to place her in such an important position when it came to moral and decision making. Surely there was a reason behind it, but Schroeder simply didn't see it.

He heard his assistant walk over to him upon hearing her name. She looked out at the plane and then to Schroeder. "Do you need something, Doctor?" Massa asked him, holding the files she was carrying close to her. He saw her shuffle them to get a better grip out of the corner of his eye. "If this is about the new flight suit for General Shilage, I put in the order just like you told me to. They're expecting it to be ready in the next few days. Hopefully by the 9th, since I asked if they could get it out to us ASAP. They gave me the estimate."

"Well, thank you. That _is_ helpful..." Schroeder said cooly. Massa relaxed slightly at this. "But that isn't what I wanted to ask you." He nodded to the princess and prepared his question. "As you can see, the Erusean princess has paid us a visit. I was just wondering how she knew Mihaly's granddaughters. Did they attend school together or something like that?"

"Oh, yes, actually," Massa said with a smile. "Alma was talking about it to me just the other day. Ionela, too. You see, they went to the same high school. Since General Shilage is well respected by the royal family, the two families also had dinners and the Shilage family was invited other social activities, like parties and a few meetings. The princess and Ionela became rather close friends, from what I understand. Alma seemed more exited than her sister to see the princess again, come to think of it." Schroeder nodded as he listened to his assistant's explanation. Massa tapped her foot in mild impatience, not a fan of standing still for very long. "Do you need anything else, Doctor?"

Schroeder shook his head. "No, that's all. Thank you, Massa." The girl gave a nod before she went back to what she was doing, disappearing from sight. Outside, the three girls began to sing and Alma began to sway back and forth as if dancing, with the princess giving a laugh and joining in. Mihaly's wingmen all smiled at this, whereas Mihaly simply kept his stone cold expression, his head tilted up towards the blue sky. Only in his eyes, if you looked hard enough, could you find any signs that he even noticed his granddaughters and the princess singing and dancing. Neither the old pilot or his granddaughters seemed to even care that a war was waging on several miles away.

With a sigh, Schroeder took off his glasses and wiped them off with his coat before he made his way over to Mihaly. The ace didn't look away from the sky as Schroeder approached. "Good afternoon, Doctor," Mihaly greeted with a mild rasp. His voice was once as smooth and cold as Schroeder's was, but over time his throat became tender from his age and cough and he began to rasp out most — if not all — of his words. "How has your work been coming along?"

"It's coming along as well as it can, I suppose," he replied with a small shrug. "We're still downloading some of the data from your last sortie, but they should be ready before the day is out."

Mihaly gave a stiff nod. "Good." Short and to the point. Never a man of words. Schroeder had been working with him long before the start of the war, and yet Mihaly was always so guarded about his feelings. To some he seemed cold and detached, but his wingman and granddaughters seemed to love and trust him all the same. It was unusual to Schroeder to see everyone just naturally flock towards someone who rarely ever showed any emotion towards them. Mihaly seemed uncomfortable in the silence, briefly glancing at Schroeder. "Did you need something?"

Schroeder narrowed his eyes, trying to think up a good reason to stay here and take a break from his work. As ridiculous as it was and as dedicated as he was to his work, even he needed a break from it once in a while. Admittedly, he wasn't as invested in his work as he normally was, but he couldn't put his finger on the reason why. For the time being, he was blaming it on the slight hangover he had from the night before. Every night, most of the base went to the local bar for a social get together. Schroeder usually stayed away, but Massa suggested that he get out and about and socialize. He'd only had two drinks and a glass of water, but he didn't have a reputation for being able to hold his alcohol.

"Actually, now that you mention it, there was," Schroeder said at last. "I wanted to tell you that your new flight suit is on the way." This seemed to grab Mihaly's full attention, as he finally took his eyes away from the sky and gave Schroeder a look that invited him to continue. "A lot of modifications were made to the original this time. Hopefully it should be able to track your movements a lot smoother than before. Not to mention, it should be far more durable than the last."

Mihaly nodded slowly, looking away, satisfied with the answer. He watched as his granddaughters led the princess inside, the singing pausing briefly before Alma resumed, leaving her sister and the princess to talk with one another. Mihaly's wingmen gave small chuckles and picked up their own conversation. Mihaly took a deep breath and Schroeder saw him tense as he inhaled. It was a few seconds before he relaxed and slowly let out the air in his lungs. "I want to try it out during a sortie as soon as it arrives," Mihaly said at last.

Schroeder stared at him, incredulous. "You want to _what_?" He tried to keep the shock out of his voice. Mihaly didn't repeat himself, knowing just as well as Schroeder that he had made himself perfectly clear. "The suit needs to be tested first, sir. We need to make sure that it's in top condition. We don't know how it will affect your body or how it might limit your movements. The Osean forces are learning, General. Do you not remember your battle with those last two squadrons? The longer the war drags on —"

The general raised a hand to silence him, maintaining his calm composure. "The faster we collect the data, the quicker the war comes to an end. You said it yourself when I first agreed to serve as your test subject."

"True…" Schroeder admitted, lowering his gaze. "As much as I want to cut back our losses during battles, I don't believe it to be worth the risk of your health." He was trying to sound more confident and caring than he actually felt. Of course he didn't want to be responsible for Mihaly's health declining, although he was already contributing to it due to the failure of his recent flight suits. Mihaly was technically only his test subject but it was Schroeder's responsibility to keep him alive and in top condition. It could affect his flying and thus interfere with the data the drones received.

Mihaly paused for a moment. Schroeder was hoping he'd come to his senses and give in, agreeing to the tests, but Mihaly was a stubborn old man and stood his ground. "We've been wearing the flight suits out testing them so often," he said levelly. "We can see how it will hold up in an actual combat scenario. I need someone to match my skills and push me to the limits in order to know how well the suit will hold up. My own squadron are only capable of so much, however quickly they may be learning." He looked out at his wingmen, some sort of pride in his gaze. "I trained them myself. I know how they move and react to counter different maneuvers. There's no challenge in it."

_Stubborn old fool_, Schroeder couldn't help but think to himself. _You're going to get yourself killed_. He fought back a frown and gave a small nod. "Very well, then, General. I'll inform you when the flight suit arrives…" No response came to this, so Schroeder turned back to the hangar to start on his work again. Somewhere inside him, he knew Mihaly had a good point. Although the flight suit always held up during training and mock dogfights, Mihaly would have difficulties in real combat when he began to engage the enemy fighters.

Schroeder couldn't help but wonder what Mihaly meant by someone to 'match his skill', though. Was he really looking for a rival? An equal in the air, someone who challenged him enough to make a fight interesting. Very few were able to match Mihaly in the sky, although his pupils came incredibly close to it and the drones were improving every day thanks to his skill. Osea didn't have a single pilot that could rival Mihaly, Schroeder was confident of that.

In fact, only a few days before, Mihaly and his squadron tangled with two Osean squadrons. He took out a few of them, with the others critically damaged and barely surviving long enough to retreat. However, in spite of his victory, Mihaly showed them some respect for evading his attacks when he returned from the sortie, correcting the younger pilots that flew with him when the youngest made a cocky remark towards the Osean fighters. Respectful of their leader, the other pilots had been humbled and agreed that their opponents fought well.

Perhaps someone in the Osean forces was up to the task. Schroeder pushed aside the thought of how the war might end if such a person existed. Mihaly and the rest of his squadron would be overpowered and Erusea would begin to lose the war if that happened, and Schroeder wanted his drones to succeed. If someone rivaled Mihaly, they rivaled the drones too. His hard work — his only legacy — would be for nothing.

No longer wanting to think about the thought of Mihaly and Erusea meeting defeat, Schroeder forced himself to focus on his work. For now, he was certain that Erusea would win the war and Mihaly would remain the ever victorious ace he was. The drones would improve and soon other countries would realize that laying lives on the line was pointless. A new, technological era would begin and no longer would there be bloodshed during the ridiculous wars that seemed to never end. That sentiment gave Schroeder new energy to continue with his work that afternoon.

Still, there was still the off chance that somebody could still rise up to challenge Mihaly. It seemed inevitable the more Schroeder kept coming back to it, no matter how hard he tried to push it out of his mind. If or when that day came, how would Mihaly feel? And how would the pilot that might take him on feel about it? Schroeder wondered if the Oseans had the same sense of honor that Mihaly and the Erusean squadrons did towards their opponent.

* * *

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**July 3rd, 2019.**_  
**1900hrs.**

Naomi clutched the tray of the watery mashed potatoes and what they claimed was steak. For a steak it was a sorry one, all shriveled up and over cooked, likely dry and. Simply prodding at it with the reused plastic silverware they handed out did nothing but prove that it was stiff and probably disgusting as well. It's not as if the food at Fort Grays was professionally prepared or anything, but as an Osean officer suddenly thrown in with the lowlifes that her country didn't want, she realized how spoiled her tastes were after spending months on a sweet, safe little island.

Scanning the room, she weighed her seating options. She could sit with a rather angry looking group of guards awaiting their next shift by smoking and passing around a flask of what was likely whiskey, with a group of unfamiliar prisoners that looked…nice for the most part, but not exactly beaming with joy. Then there was Count's little pack or whatever the hell they were considered, minus Champ. Instead of Champ, a man that Naomi was unfamiliar with was sitting with them, one of the guard's dog's laying at his feet, underneath the table. A rather unusual sight.

They appeared invested in a game of poker, their dinner pushed aside. Unless she wanted to go back on her deal with Avril, then she had two options to choose from. The decision was ultimately made for her when High Roller took notice from her and grinned, looking away from the cards he was holding. Everyone else at the table did the same as their companion waved to get Naomi's attention. "Hey! Trigger, come on over here, why don't ya? We could always use another player." Naomi hesitated and High Roller picked up on this almost instantly. "C'mon, kid, we won't bite ya. If you won't play, at least come sit down for some conversation. Count and Tabloid are puttin' us to sleep over here — ow!"

He began to laugh and reached down to rub his leg which had no doubt been kicked by Count, who had an even more sour look than usual. Naomi slowly approached the table and set her tray down, taking a seat beside Tabloid. He gave a friendly smile. "Try not to look so nervous, Trigger. I think you'll find some of us are capable of behaving like gentlemen."

"What reality are you living in, Tabloid? Do we need to have your head examined?" the unfamiliar man scoffed, not bothering to mask the venom behind his words. Unlike the prisoners around her, he wore a uniform similar to Commander McKinsey's. Stained greenish-tan fatigues with a camouflage pattern and a few OADF patches on the shoulders. He was broad shouldered and had a rigid, stiff posture. He had short, dark hair that Naomi couldn't tell the exact color of. The lighting made it appear either black or a dark brown. His eyes looked to be blue, but again, the lighting made it hard for her to tell. If she had to guess his age, she'd say he was in his late twenties or early thirties at the most.

His voice sounded familiar to her…one of the other pilots in the squadron? No, he wouldn't be wearing a guard's uniform if he was. Naomi stared at him for a moment and then she was able to put two and two together. "Bandog?" she asked, trying to mask the surprise in her voice. He looked up at her, for a moment his smile faltering. "_You're_ Bandog?"

"And _you're_ Harling's dumbass murderer?" he retorted, obviously not pleased by her reaction to him. "Pleasure to officially meet you, Trigger." After his sarcastic comment, Bandog looked back at his cards, reaching down with his free hand to check and make sure the dog was still at his feet. That must have been his own dog, but why on Earth would the AWACS radio officer have a dog? She made a note to ask about it later. His expression was blank as he gave the dog's back a pat, but as soon as he pulled his hand away and reached for a drink of water, his face contorted into a scowl that rivaled Count's. As if Naomi had never interrupted, he growled, "Full Band, it's your call."

Naomi glanced over at Full Band, who pursed his lips as he studied his cards. He sighed and set the cards down on the table face down, shoving them away from him. "Eh, I don't wanna risk it," he said with a sigh. "I'm gonna fold."

Naomi watched for the others reactions to this. High Roller was smirking confidently, looking around the table at his opponents. Count's brow was furrowed as he studied his own hand, but he said nothing and barely reacted to Full Band's withdrawal. Tabloid was looking at his own cards with a guarded expression, only smiling when High Roller, Naomi, and Bandog regarded him with suspicion and curiosity. Bandog let out an impatient huff, looking over to Count. "You gonna call it quits too, Count?" he taunted.

Count smirked and his eyes had a determined spark in them. "Ha! You wish you were that lucky, Bandog," he replied. Bandog raised an eyebrow, dubious that Count truly had a chance at winning. He tossed the cards onto the table for all to see, clearly determined and convinced he had a winning hand. "Read 'em and weep, boys. Full house, right there. Beat that, I dare you."

Bandog exchanged an annoyed look with Tabloid before he slammed his own hand onto the table face down, but he didn't admit Count had beaten him. Tabloid shrugged and did the same, only he said, "Well, better than what I've got." Full Band shook his head and gave a small laugh at this, and Tabloid quickly grinned. Bandog looked pissed, and High Roller hadn't lost his grin.

"You got something up your sleeve, High Roller?" Naomi asked, her dinner forgotten as she was now invested in their game. Count had started to reach for the crumpled pile of money on the table, assuming that High Roller was folding like the rest of them. As soon as Naomi mentioned it and he saw the look on his wingman's face, Count drew back and crossed his arms, waiting.

"Now that you mention it…I think I've got a little somethin' that'll beat that pathetic little hand of yours, Sir Count," High Roller teased, slowly running his index finger along the sides of the cards. In one swift flick of his wrist, the cards fell to the table and landed in a perfect position, displaying his hand for all to see. Naomi noticed Count's face drain of color as he stared at the cards. Naomi knew from the games she watched at Fort Grays as well as from what Boggard and Brownie had taught her that it was an excellent hand, rare and hard to get. But nothing beat it. "Royal flush! That's how it's done, so I hope you were all paying attention, there."

He reached forward to collect the money, with the color returning to Count's face as he scowled. Naomi carefully watched as High Roller collected most of the cards and began to shuffle them. She recognized what he was doing, though, and how he'd managed to get such a good hand. He was making it look as if he was shuffling the deck in an extravagant way, but he was tilting the corners towards him and going slow enough to see which cards were where, enabling him to deal whichever cards he wanted to whomever he wanted. "That was impressive, High Roller," she said with a nod, and he gave a laugh in response. Quickly, and calmly, she added, "At least…it would have been impressive if you weren't cheating to accomplish it."

High Roller froze and tensed, looking up at her, although he didn't lose his smile. "You sure you know what you're saying there, Trigger?" Naomi suddenly had everyone else's attention. "I've been at this game a long time, and I've always won fair and square." The look in his eyes said that he was challenging her. Alright, so he wanted to see if she could prove it and if not she'd be humiliated. Either way, he would gain something from it, albeit in a strange way. He slid the deck over to her and crossed his arms. "So…what was I doing to cheat, then?"

Naomi smirked, picking up the deck of cards. She took a deep breath as she focused on the cards, aware of High Roller and the others watching her closely. With ease, she replicated High Roller's movements to the best of her ability, remembering how he did it. She tilted the corners of the cards towards her and was able to get a good look at what order they were in as she continued to make it look like she was shuffling it normally. When she was finished, she placed it back in the center of the table. "Take a card. The first one should be an Ace of Hearts."

It was Count that reached forward and took the card and get a good look at it. Mildly impressed, he flipped it around to show the others. Sure enough, he held an Ace of Hearts in his hand for all to see. High Roller crossed his arms and chuckled as Count set the card beside the deck and looked to Naomi. "Alright, Trigger. I'll be honest, that was…impressive. However, it doesn't exactly prove anything. So…what'll the next one be?"

"If I remember correctly…Three of Spades," Naomi replied, pretending to think for a moment. Count pulled the card off the deck and nodded, turning it around for the others to see. Tabloid, Full Band, and High Roller laughed it off, but Count and Bandog looked to High Roller, clearly upset by this. Naomi also looked to the gambler, smiling sweetly. "How'd I do, High Roller? I'm no expert at poker, and I don't normally make it a habit to know how to cheat, but I figured I wouldn't lose anything from a simple demonstration."

High Roller smiled. "You did pretty good, kid," he replied. "It took me years to get that technique right. I mean, you're clearly a bit rusty but you managed to get it down almost perfectly." Naomi couldn't help but find herself a tad surprised by his praise, trying to play it cool. In reality, she was surprised she hadn't screwed it up. High Roller seemed to have gotten whatever he wanted and he didn't seem at all upset by his 'exposure'.

Tabloid chuckled. "That was something else, Trigger." He clapped her on the shoulder, and Naomi couldn't help the pride that was starting to well up in her chest. "I gotta ask, though…how'd you figure it out? I mean, we've been playing cards with him for months now and we never noticed it. At least, I didn't. How'd you manage to replicate it, too?"

"Umm…well…it's kinda hard to explain." Naomi tried to wrack her brain for the simplest answer. "Well, for one my dad always taught me to be aware of my surroundings and to take notice of the 'little things' that people do. I guess it's like hypervigilance, although it doesn't stem from any sort of anxiety or paranoia. How I was able to replicate it, even if not perfectly, I owe to a photographic memory. It's the reason why I can watch something be done and learn from that." She knew her explanation was getting lengthy, and although Tabloid and High Roller were indeed interested, even Count appeared to be listening, she felt bad about interrupting them. "Er…anybody up for another game? Would you mind if I joined in?"

"Yeah, I'd like a chance to win my money back," Full Band replied, looking around the table. "You guys up for it?" There were no arguments as several murmurs of agreement came from those seated around him. Full Band looked over at Naomi and smiled. "Looks like you're in, kid."

Bandog let out another huff of annoyance as he glared at High Roller. "I'll play again, but only if High Roller doesn't do the dealing."

Count smiled and reached for the deck. "Well, I'll do it then." A hand came down on his as soon as his fingers brushed the top of the deck and they all saw Bandog had reached across the table to stop him. He frowned at this and spoke in a mock hurt tone, "Aww, c'mon Bandog. You don't really think I'd be _that_ dishonest, do you?"

"Dishonesty is what got you sent here to begin with, Count," Bandog snarled, taking his hand off of Count's and allowed the pilot to lean back. Count had a very quick reaction, only a briefly annoyed look that told Naomi that Bandog hit a nerve, but it was replaced with his usual smirk almost as soon as it had appeared. Bandog nudged the deck over to Tabloid. "Here. You deal, Tabloid."

"You trust him and not me?" Count asked, feigning amusement and disbelief. The smirk was still there, but his lighthearted tone was most definitely forced.

"Tabloid's not a pathological liar," Full Band teased. "He's too much of a goody two shoes to cheat."

Naomi expected Tabloid to retaliate, but he just laughed along with the others as he went around, dealing the cards. When he was done, he set the remainder of the stack in the center of the table. "Alright, then. Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

**2040hrs.**

The game managed to drag on for the remainder of dinner. Naomi had barely eaten anything, simply tossing it out. The guards left the prisoners in Bandog's charge before they cleared out, going outside to smoke or something like that. As it turns out, there were a lot of things to learn about Bandog that were eventually explained to her that night. Like the dog that was laying under the table.

She found out that the dog at Bandog's feet was an MWD left in his care after her handler was killed during one of the first Erusean bombing runs on their base. Apparently it was some sort of accident that killed the guy and McKinsey wanted to keep the dog around to keep the prisoners in check instead of shipping her back to Osea to retire. As it turned out, Bandog was capable of some sort of emotion close to affection and seemed almost happy to take care of the dog.

It wasn't long before the other prisoners, Avril among them, left to return to the cellblock. Full Band and Bandog left the game quickly, Full Band not wanting to risk anything and Bandog just getting too bored to go on, or so he claimed. Eventually, it was down to Count and Naomi after Tabloid quit and went to return to his cell and call it a night and High Roller decided it would be more interesting to watch his wingmen in a showdown situation.

Count seemed confident he was going to win. "Just you and me left in this, Trigger. So what's it gonna be?" he asked. Smugly, he added, "I mean, if you call it quits now, no one'll blame you." Naomi looked at him, managing to hold back a smile at this. It was actually kind of funny how confident he continued to act, even after losing the first game that Naomi had walked in on. Granted, he hadn't had a chance the first game.

Naomi wasn't an expert at the game, hell, she only joined in because she had nothing better to do and dinner was awful. Now she had no choice but to follow through, and she didn't want to give Count the satisfaction of a win. She had an okay hand, but it wasn't a sure-fire win. She just had to throw caution to the wind and give it a shot. "Sorry, Count, but I'm not gonna let you down that easily," she told him, sure to keep a blank expression. Laying the hand down for them to see, she read it out to them, "There. Three of a kind. Give it your best shot."

She noticed High Roller give her a 'not bad' look, same with Full Band. Bandog had a bored look on his face but looked to Count expectantly. Naomi didn't miss the slip in his smile as he reluctantly set his own cards down. "Two pair," he replied, his confidence having ebbed away.

"Better luck next time, Count," Full Band said to him, hiding the amusement in his voice and fighting back a laugh. He sighed and finished off the water he had before standing up and patting Count on the shoulder. "Nice game. Real entertaining, really." He started towards the door, calling over his shoulder, "I guess I'll say goodnight. The guards'll be pretty upset if they catch the rest of you out, so I'd hurry up unless you wanna spend the night in solitary." Naomi heard the door to the mess hall squeak open and then slam shut as he left.

Bandog stood up and stretched out his back. "Full Band's right, you know," he said to them. "Better pack it up before I get my ass chewed out for letting you idiots stay out here past curfew." He looked down at his dog and made a sharp whistle to get its attention. The canine reacted, lifting her head up and perking her ears, suddenly showing more energy than she had all night. Bandog beckoned for her to follow him. "Hey, c'mon Sarge. We're going for a walk." Turning to look at them as the Dinsmark shepherd trotted over to him, Bandog said, "I'll be waiting outside in the hall. If you're not out in five minutes then I tell McKinsey and the three of you are sleeping in solitary tonight."

With that, Bandog and Sarge left the mess hall to wait for them and escort them back to the cellblock. The money on the table was rightfully won by Naomi, but she felt bad taking it all. She quickly counted it all up and then divided it between the three of them. High Roller gladly accepted, but when Naomi stood up to follow Bandog, Count grabbed her wrist to stop her. "I don't need or want your charity, Trigger," he snapped, shoving the money back towards her. "I don't take handouts, either."

"It's not a handout." She snatched her hand away from him. "What the hell am I supposed to do with all this money, huh? _Buy_ myself a pardon? Fat chance. The shit at the store on base is cheap, so that won't do me any good either. So keep it, it's practically worthless to me unless I want to spend it all on poker again." Naomi pushed the money back towards Count and this time he didn't try and stop her from walking off.

The walk back to the cellblock with Bandog was spent in silence for the most part, with Count walking ahead of Bandog and not wanting to stay behind with Naomi and High Roller. Sarge had her leash on, but Bandog allowed her to roam ahead of them, throwing a rubber ball for her to chase after to give her some exercise. Count seemed oblivious to the dog running back and forth, even when Sarge occasionally brought the ball to him before Bandog corrected her. For a dog tasked with guarding them and trained to be aggressive and assertive towards the prisoners, Sarge seemed more suited for being a pet. Naomi actually found herself missing the two dogs that her parents owned the longer she watched Sarge play.

High Roller quickly distracted her from being homesick by starting up a quiet conversation. "Y'know Trigger, I gotta hand it to you. You've got some skills," he said to her, and Naomi could only blink at him, not sure what he meant. He picked up on this and started to explain, "Not gonna lie, I like you. With those skills I mention, well, you've got guts. Honestly, I don't think anybody around here has ever made Count that angry. Sure, he's all bark and no bite but until you came along he was the only one good enough to be followed like a leader, except maybe Tabloid. But ever since the other day, there's been a lot of talk about you."

"I…don't know what you're getting at, High Roller," Naomi replied, glancing over at Count and Bandog. "I'm not trying to take over the squadron, or anything. I've never been much of a leader, so by all means, keep following Count in the air. I'm just trying to survive like the rest of you."

"It's not only that. Tabloid trusted you the other day and you even got a higher score than Count did. Hell, Champ was impressed and that's no easy feat," High Roller told her. Naomi didn't know how to feel. She just met these guys and obviously she wanted their respect so she could make it out of this place alive, but she didn't want them to just throw responsibility at her. Were they doing that? Was she giving herself too much credit? High Roller went on, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, you've got promise. And you've got me some good money. Can't say I'm thrilled that you figured out how I win at poker…"

Naomi stopped, just for a heartbeat, long enough to recall her 'exposing' him. Before Bandog noticed, she began walking again and looked High Roller over carefully. Of course he wouldn't have just let her show him up like that. "It was a test, wasn't it?" she asked him calmly. He shrugged, the closest thing for a confirmation that she received. "Okay…what was the purpose of it, then? Did I pass?"

"With flying colors, actually," High Roller said. "The test in question was to see how you were under pressure. You didn't crack, which tells me that you're not like Count. You can walk the walk, instead of sit around bragging about it all day long." He put a hand on her shoulder and Naomi felt surprisingly at ease. High Roller and Tabloid were the nicest people she'd come across, but High Roller's betting on his squadron and on her life still didn't sit right with her. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, kid. Don't want you going down out there, right? See ya later, Trigger."

Naomi watched as he followed Count into the cellblock. She hesitated as a cool, midsummer breeze helped alleviate some of the heat. It was a nice night, but she had little time to enjoy it. Bandog growled at her, "Hurry it up, Trigger. Neither of us have all night." Naomi sighed and complied with the order, stopping just to lean down and pat Sarge on the head. The dog's tail wagged at this and Naomi smiled, bidding Bandog a good night as she stepped inside and made her way down the hall to her cell.

Once she reached it, she took notice of her surroundings. Avril was already asleep, her back facing Naomi. Out in the hall, she could hear a guard going through and checking all of the cells, locking them all inside for the night, talking loudly and barking at Count and High Roller to get in bed, which woke a few of the other prisoners, who groaned at the disturbance. Naomi hurriedly kicked off her shoes and flight suit and climbed into her bunk, not wanting the guards to get mad at her and wake Avril. She didn't want to face their wrath.

Eventually, the guards cleared out and shut off the lights, leaving them all in darkness. The silence of the night was disturbed only by the snores from the other cells. Naomi found herself unable to sleep, tossing and turning for hours. The whole time she was thinking about her new squadron. She didn't know them, at least, she barely knew them. Should she behave like Avril, no room for any friends as she worked with a single goal in mind. Or were these guys actually worth her time?

Tabloid was a friendly guy, and High Roller had some questionable intentions, but she actually found that they were growing on her. Maybe she could get Count and Avril to come around. _Who am I kidding?_ Naomi thought, reminding herself that they weren't 'friend' material. Besides, she wasn't here for friends and neither were they. Avril made that clear. But still, if she could prove to the rest of the pilots that she had their back, surely they'd do the same. High Roller was already out there watching her back.

Sighing, she rolled over on the cot and closed her eyes. She'd figure it all out. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing she was back at Fort Grays, with Clown and Knocker to offer her advice. Or back in Osea with her father and the Razgriz giving her tips on her flying and telling her stories to distract from the awful situation. Hell, she'd even go for a game of poker with Boggard, and he cheated much like High Roller did. At least he gave her a run for her money.

"You're on your own now, kid," Naomi whispered to herself, trying to tell herself what her father or her flight leaders would say if she went to them. "Like I said, you need to make the best of it. They're not so bad…"


	11. Long Day

Chapter Ten: Long Day

|…|…|…|

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**July 4th, 2019.**_  
**0700hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Early in the morning, after breakfast, McKinsey called all of the convicts into a briefing. After having roughly three days with no activity, Naomi and her fellow prisoners had grown restless. A few scuffles had broken out during breakfast and they spent an hour or two in solitary. Needless to say, however disorganized the squadron was, they seemed almost excited with the idea they could possibly have something to do and the guards were more relaxed now that they knew that the prisoners had a more useful way to take out their anger.

Naomi followed the unusually cheerful crowd into the room that held the mission briefings. McKinsey was already there, waiting with a scowl on his face. He seemed to be taking note of everyone there, making sure nobody had tried to skip out on the briefing. Naomi watched him nod and mouth their names to himself as they entered the room and sat down. Once everyone was seated, he let out a 'hmph' and looked over his papers. The door closed behind them and the lights were turned off as the computer started up and the projector displayed the digital map.

Nobody said anything for a while, sitting in silence. McKinsey continued scanning his papers as the computer finalized everything, which took a few minutes. Naomi sighed and leaned forward in her seat. "Er, Commander McKinsey?" she asked, bringing his and everyone else's attention to her. He raised an eyebrow and gave an even grumpier expression than he'd previously been wearing, but didn't object to her speaking. Naomi nervously looked around. "Um…I was just wondering if you were planning on telling us what the mission is or if we're just supposed to watch you read."

McKinsey's brow furrowed and he let out an annoyed sigh before setting the papers down and pointing to the screen. "I'd watch your mouth if I were you, Trigger," he warned. "Anyways. Your mission is to atone for your crimes by attracting the enemy's attention." The screen showed a map of the Usean continent, pinpointing the location of their base and drawing a line from the base to a location further inland. "First, I want you to head from the base to the desert region of Roca Roja to the northwest. And then second you'll attack the large Erusean base there.

We've been unable to verify that base's ability to deal with fighters. You will attack and provoke the enemy into revealing their AA strategy. Get them to fire at you as much as you can. That way we can confirm where they're firing from." The map zoomed in on a canyon area in Roca Roja, displaying three red circles to mark the enemy bases. "Then, it's a case of sending in our regular force to clean them out. For this mission, we've prepared a frontline base that can be used for ammo replenishment and aircraft repairs."

Naomi perked up and watched as the map display changed to show a blue line off to the side, away from the three enemy bases. For a moment, she thought that maybe things weren't as bad here as she thought and that they'd be treated as an actual unit, or at least able to act like one. Her hopes were crushed as soon as McKinsey added, "_However_, this is _not_ for you guys. Only the regular force has permission to use it."

"How the hell are we supposed to fight without ammunition?" Naomi couldn't help but ask, raising her voice. "Isn't the goal to take care of the enemy? What happens if we run out?"

McKinsey glared at her and growled, "Even if you run out of ammo, don't forget that you're just decoys. Nothing more, nothing less. You stay out there as targets for the enemy." The computer began to shut down. "That's all. Go and take care of your aircraft now, you'll be leaving at 1500hrs. Dismissed." The lights turned back on and the door opened up. McKinsey watched them as they all stood up to leave, and Naomi gave him an annoyed look as she followed her 'squadron' out. He returned her look with a short laugh before he turned away.

"Bastard…" Naomi muttered under her breath as the guards took up the rear to make sure that all of them proceeded to the hangars like they were told. Nobody put up a fight as they exited the main building and hurried over to the hangars. Everyone seemed almost excited, and she could easily understand why. For the first time Naomi had heard of, they were being allowed to leave the base and get a change of scenery. They were all chomping at the bit with the idea of blowing up an enemy base, after all, their excess energy had to have some sort of outlet.

All the hangars had been opened prior to their arrival, their planes not spotless but far cleaner than they'd been in a while. Dust and a marred paint job, coupled with the sin lines on their tail made it clear that they weren't an actual squadron. Naomi entered the hangar that held her plane, and was surprised to see that the others hadn't done the same. Instead, she spotted Count talking with Champ and High Roller and Tabloid and Full Band talking about something close by. It wasn't long before the group of convicts noticed her watching them and decided they'd bring the conversation her way.

High Roller led the way, a grin on his face and the first to speak up, "Heya, Trigger. Some mission we got ahead of us, eh?"

Naomi looked at them. "Uhh, I guess so?" High Roller seemed to be holding a piece of paper with something scribbled onto it. She tried to get a good look at it, but it was too messy and she couldn't make out any of the writing. "What's that you've got there, High Roller?"

He held up the paper, still smiling. "What, this?" High Roller asked nonchalantly, waving the paper around for a moment. "These are just the bets on who's gonna be surviving today's mission. I don't like to waste any time gettin' everyone's slots down, y'know?" He skimmed over most of his writing before he folded it up and stuffed it in his flight suit's pocket. "The smart money's on you, Count, and Tabloid, it would seem. Gotta say, I'm a bit impressed. You interested in earning some extra cash, eh, Trigger?"

"Sorry," Naomi said flatly, glaring at the odd look she was getting from Count and Champ. "I don't gamble with someone's life, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't let me bet on myself." No surprise that they were betting on people's lives here, but did they actually think that it was amusing? She looked outside at the guards and their dogs, nodding towards them. "Shouldn't you guys get to work? I'm pretty sure they're just looking for a reason to throw you into solitary again."

Count glanced over at them and then rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "You serious? They're in on it, too. They've even worked out a system with one another for the entire purpose of betting on us. Trust me, if they want the money then they leave us alone until High Roller pays up." He was in a much better mood than he had been the previous night, perhaps over his defeat by now.

"So they let you get away with anything until High Roller pays them?" Naomi asked, not entirely believing him. "That seems awfully irresponsible of them as guards, y'know. What happens if High Roller doesn't decide to pay up, huh? What happens then?"

"Then they throw us into solitary," Tabloid replied. "After which they search High Roller's cell and take most of the money for themselves. It happened a few times before, so we've gotten pretty quick about handing over any money." Naomi studied him for a moment. He was the most trustworthy person here, in her eyes. She wondered if he placed a bet, too. Something about his carefree attitude and the smile he gave her after he answered didn't strike her as coming from someone who was so greedy for money that he'd bet on his squadron's life.

"Yeah, but they always throw us in regardless. Ya'll know that well as I do," Champ added in annoyance.

Full Band nodded in agreement. He put on a sad, tired look and hunched his shoulders, making him look a lot older than he was. "There's always the off chance they'll let us off easy, but that's only if the betting goes the way they want it to."

"That's only if we're real lucky," High Roller said with a laugh, patting Full Band on the back. Naomi rolled her eyes and went back to preparing her plane as the others continued their conversation about betting, with High Roller trying to convince the others to take a bit more of a risk than they already had. It was definitely going to be a long day.

* * *

**Roca Roja, Usea.**  
_**July 4th, 2019.**_  
**1800hrs.**

The flight was short, only a few hours from the base. They had plenty of fuel to start them out and their weapons supply was alright for the time being. They had enough to get most of the job done, but they'd be out of ammo before the operation was over and done with. A real shame that they weren't allowed to return to resupply. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, making the already red colored rocks and sand appear a vibrant red-orange that blended with the multi-colored sky above it. Shadows were casted in the nooks and crevices below them, meaning the enemy likely well hidden from the human eyes. The craters that marred the region also provided the Eruseans some cover. Luckily for Spare Squadron, they had their radars and a grouchy AWACS to lend them a hand.

Although Naomi found herself irritated by the fact that they were limited with what they were able to do, the rest of Spare Squadron seemed to be the exact opposite. Count and Tabloid were bickering back and forth about something, High Roller was trying to take more bets, Full Band and Champ were talking amongst themselves, and Bandog yelled at them all to shut up once or twice. All the voices talking at once in her ears made it hard to focus and Naomi felt unusually cramped in her cockpit as they approached the area of operations.

A few blips appeared on her radar, catching her attention. The others must have noticed as well, because the laughter and conversation quickly died off. Naomi glanced at the radar and then looked straight ahead, where she could just make out a large rock formation through the clouds where the base must have been nestled. "Bandog, I've picked up the first enemy base on radar. Looks like they're the welcoming committee."

She heard the controller scoff at her words. "Some welcome." Bandog had been in his usual, awful mood. No surprise there, although she wished that he'd lighten up just once. Quickly, he ordered, "All aircraft, spread out and attack. Let's just get this over with so we can go home."

"Wilco," Naomi answered, admittedly excited at finally having something to look at other than the 444th. She performed a barrel roll before diving underneath a cloud, breaking their strange idea of a formation and putting her well ahead of her wingmen. "I guess we should go out and have some fun, right? Since we're in enemy territory, I'd suggest you all be careful and don't let your guard down. Let's not give McKinsey and those assholes at the base the satisfaction of being rid of us. Don't wanna let them off that easy, do we?"

A few laughs followed the rhetorical question as the rest of the squadron all descended to move in for the attack. "Just to make sure, we're clear to attack, right?" Count asked Bandog as they approached the base. "I heard the regular forces were going to clean things up. It doesn't look like they did a damn thing and they've left all the work to us." To Naomi, it almost sounded like he was uncomfortable with the operation. She couldn't blame him, now that she knew that McKinsey thought of them as nothing more than pawns.

"Relax, Count," Champ replied. "It's just like before. We blow the shit outta everything and call it a day."

"Huh. Sharp as a tack, aren't you, Spare 8?" Bandog sneered at him. "Regular forces can reduce losses if you tenderize the base first. You're here to clear the way for them. If you can't handle that, then just fly and be a target." High Roller and Full Band both gave some sort of sinister, morbid chuckle at Bandog's comment. Naomi once again felt unnerved being in the air with these guys. Okay, so not as much had changed as she thought.

Taking a deep breath, she made a move on the enemy base. An AA gun sat on the edge of the base, and not far away from that was a radar tower. Behind that, next to the runway, there was a couple of oil tanks. All they had to do was tenderize the base? Well, it wouldn't be too hard. Naomi got missile lock on the AA gun and fired, adjusting her angle to take out the radar tower. She made a minor adjustment to her altitude and gunned down the oil tanks. The first one blew up and set off a chain reaction, so the second one followed suit.

She pulled up and circled around to get a look at the runway. They were preparing a couple of fighters and bombers for takeoff. It's possible the bombers were to be sent out to the 444th, and she really didn't want a repeat of her first mission at the base. She used the gun on the first one, then moved on to the second one, firing two missiles for it. That left only one more to go, but she was too close for a good shot. Naomi pulled up and circled back around once again. In her ear, she heard Bandog say, "We've spotted some transport trucks. They're not a problem, but feel free to take them out."

"Hey, leave 'em to me!" Champ said, and Naomi could almost picture some smirk on his face. "Bullying the weak is kind of a specialty of mine." She shuddered at this before she finished off the last bomber and turned her attention to the fighters that were taxying in spite of the squadron pounding the base around them. Erusea had some dedicated pilots, she had to give them that.

"So, what are the odds of getting out alive?" High Roller asked.

"That's for you to figure out, Spare 7," Bandog snapped at him.

"Great, thanks for that, Bandog," High Roller answered sarcastically. "I mean, it's not like I'm gambling with my life out here, or anything."

Naomi heard Bandog sigh before he said, "You're going to be hitting three locations. Some have air power, some don't, so their threat levels vary." Bandog paused for a moment, then he scoffed. "If you want the odds to be in your favor, think of the best way to rob them of their ability to respond to your attack. Use those empty heads of yours and you just might make it home in time to swindle the guards. Die too fast and you won't even be useful as targets."

"Wait a minute, all the bombers were destroyed before takeoff," Champ observed, almost sounding shocked. "Who did that?!"

Naomi didn't answer, unsure how to and not wanting to sound like a glory hound. Instead, she went about the mission, trying to take out the control tower to essentially cripple their fighters and add to the confusion from the surprise attack. The Erusean's did the same thing to the IUN's forces, making Naomi's first sortie chaotic and stressful. She fired a missile and the control tower burst into flames. Another Spare pilot, one that Naomi recognized the voice of but hadn't met yet, said, "Target confirmed destroyed. It was Trigger again!"

As Naomi tangled with an F-16 for a few minutes before finally taking it out, she couldn't help but feel some pride deep down. It seemed that the squadron was finally warming up to her, now that they could see what she had to offer. It was just like with Knocker. All she had to do was prove that she was just as capable as the rest of them. Count chirped, "Scratch one hostile! Enemy base is nothing but smoke and rubble now!"

"That was fast." Bandog sounded impressed, which surprised her. "Keep up the good work, Spare Squadron. You may just keep yourselves out of solitary tonight."

"Haha! Righto!" Count chuckled as he and Champ went after a single F-16 together.

Naomi quickly took care of another plane, while Tabloid and High Roller stuck close by and attempted to work together to take care of it. It was working out for the most part, although she noticed that they had a hard time predicting the others moves. In the end, Tabloid fired the missile that finished it off while Naomi took out her own target and pulled around to help Champ and Count. Champ chuckled, "Trigger, you're rockin' it hard."

"Thanks, Champ!" Naomi wasn't able to keep a smile off of her face at her wingman's praise.

"Cut the crap, you two! There's work to be done, so move on to the other base and quit dawdling!" Bandog snapped at them. "Oh, and just so we're clear on a few things, any aircraft from the regular units that join later and need to resupply or get any repairs, we have a return line set up so they can fly out there. You guys, however, do not have that luxury."

"So, what are we supposed to do?" Full Band asked.

"Weren't you listening during the briefing?" Naomi couldn't help but ask him. No reply came, so she took it as a sign that he had barely paid attention when McKinsey told them they were nothing more than decoys. "If we run out of ammo, we're supposed to fly around and let them shoot at us. McKinsey said so himself." Naomi dived down towards the road and took care of the trucks that Champ had let slip through from the first base. It looked like they were heading towards the second base, which was dead ahead, hiding in the rocks.

Bandog informed them, "Enemy vehicles destroyed. Hurry up and get to the next target."

"You're our official flyswatter now, Trigger." Count taunted her, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes at him. Go figure, the second she starts proving herself out there, Count still manages to find some reason why she shouldn't take any pride in it. Naomi saw him take out an AA gun and then turn away from the base ahead of them, pulling out of the fight. Where was he going?

"Count?" Naomi asked as she took out an APC, craning her neck to get a look at Count's plane, heading in the direction of the return line. Surely he'd be punished if he left? "Count, is something wrong?"

"Yeah, I'm out of ammo. Don't get all pissy with me, Trigger, I'm just returning to resupply. I'll come back to help your ass out," Count replied, not in the most pleasant tone. "Surely you can stand a few minutes without me?"

She was about to make a sharp retort, wanting to tell Count that he could take his attitude and shove it somewhere the rest of them didn't have to deal with it, but Full Band and a few other planes broke off to follow after Count, leaving the remainder of the squadron to deal with the enemy. Full Band scoffed, "How are we supposed to work without ammo? They can't stop us from resupplying. I'm heading back, too."

Bandog growled, "Nice try. This stuff isn't for you guys, so get your asses back and re-engage _now_!"

"Okay, let's be honest here," Count replied, sounding unusually calm. The confidence was still there. "Irregulars like us aren't allowed to resupply. But in your heart, you want us to smash that base. Am I off? Well, in order to put on a nice show, we need ammunition." For a minute, Naomi couldn't help but chuckle at the 'in your heart' comment that Count made. Bandog had a heart? Okay, she was being a but unfair after seeing him with his canine companion. Still...

She heard Bandog groan, knowing that Count was right. Count was surprisingly correct in what he had said, and it seemed that he knew how to convince Bandog to let them return. "Fine. I'll inform the allied base that you'll be arriving shortly. But you're gonna wish this mission never ended."

Tabloid laughed. "Looks like Bandog's finally come around. I knew you weren't all that bad." Bandog didn't answer this, but the rest of the squadron had a brief laugh at the AWACS expense. Naomi, Tabloid, and High Roller lowered their altitude to begin the attack on the second section. Tabloid piped up again, "I finally have a read on the targets. They're in one hell of a place, wouldn't you say so?"

"Yeah, they are," Naomi agreed, scanning the cliff face for their anti-air weaponry. SAMs and AA guns were positioned all along the roads and bridges. All of this along with the position they chose for hiding made out the impression that they were expecting an attack from the air at any given moment. "I'll take out the AA guns and SAMs…umm…Tabloid, High Roller, are you guys willing to follow my lead until the others get back? I've got a few ideas so we can take care of this base quick and easy."

There was a moment of silence as they considered their options. High Roller was the first to make a decision. "Yeah, sure. Why not?" he said as he maneuvered beside her. Tabloid also made his choice, although he didn't voice it right away. He formed up on her other wing and Naomi led the way over the base and rocks to get a good look at the enemy's locations so she knew what to hit and where.

Tabloid seemed to get the general idea of why they were just following her over the base. He sounded cheerful when he asked, "Alright, Trigger, you're the boss for now. What do you need us to do from here?"

Naomi's heart skipped a beat. She was being listened to and they seemed confident in her abilities. Was she a leader? No, Count was unofficially the leader. She couldn't let a brief moment of giving orders go to her head and cloud her judgement. "Okay…Tabloid, think you can handle the fighters that are about to take off? They might pick up the rest of the squadron when they come back and cause some trouble for them. High Roller, I want you to take care of the rest of the base. If anything slips through Tabloid's run, I want you to chase after it as well. Do you think you've got it? If not, then…"

High Roller interrupted her with a hearty laugh that caught her off guard. "Relax, Trigger, we can handle it. Seems like a pretty solid strategy, right, Tabloid?" She saw him break off from her wing and dive towards an enemy control tower, taking care of the base just like Naomi had asked.

"I have to agree with High Roller," Tabloid said, although he didn't leave the formation right away like High Roller had. "I gotta good feeling about you, Trigger." With that, he veered off from their formation and circled around to get visual on the taxying fighters. Naomi couldn't help but smile at this as she watched him fly in a different direction to take on the task she'd given him. He and High Roller weren't so bad after all.

She went back towards the direction of the annihilated section as if she was going to return to it, but turned and lowered her altitude to take out the AA guns and the SAM sites throughout the narrow area. By the time Naomi was finished and had gone to join High Roller, Count and the others had already reentered the combat area and they wasted no time assisting High Roller and Naomi in the annihilation of the enemy base. Naomi chuckled, "I was wondering when you guys were coming back. Did you guys stop for a fruit cocktail or something on your way back?"

"Very funny, Trigger. You're just full of jokes, aren't ya?" Count replied as he took out a warehouse, pulling up to handle an Apache that was attempting to get a lock on him. The helicopter burst into flames. He climbed up to join Naomi, who was trying to get a view of the damage done to the base, the smoke and fire making it difficult. "I heard that you were taking charge in my absence, but I'll take it from here."

"Spare 15, Spare 2, what the hell are you two dumbasses doing? Neither one of you are in charge, Count. _I_ give the orders around here," Bandog spat at them and Naomi bit her tongue to keep from replying. "Hostiles in your area are nearly wiped out, so move on to a more crowded area." She heard him scoff again and add, "And do us all a favor and try to catch some more lead out there, got it?"

"Aww, you're giving me another chance? Must be my lucky day." Count gave a short laugh and he and Naomi veered away from the burning base below them and headed towards the next area that showed on their radar. Several blips were scattered across it, but Bandog did tell them to head to a crowded, enemy rich area. No problem there. The rest of the squadron was more than happy to follow them.

"The enemy base is divided into three sections," Bandog reminded them coldly. "_You_ did nothing more than help destroy one of them before running off to resupply. Why are you acting like some bigshot, Count?" Count didn't dignify Bandog with a response, either too upset or unwilling to give in.

Full Band, who was trailing behind with Tabloid and another squadron member, snorted with amusement. "Besides, Trigger's the one who did most of the work."

"I just took out the bombers," Naomi admitted sheepishly, unsure how to respond to the praise. She was starting to have a love-hate relationship with being the center of attention, not that she was ever a fan of it to begin with, but she was becoming less of one.

"You did a bit more than that, kid," Full Band replied, another chuckle following his words.

Bandog cut in, "And why are you so proud of that Full Band? Pipe down and get back to work already." Just when Naomi was starting to think Bandog wasn't so bad, he went and started acting like a jerk once again. Not that she could really blame him. She didn't want to be here any more than he did, and it would seem that he probably wanted to get back on the ground and spend time with his dog.

Not wanting to get thrown in solitary for not obeying orders, she pushed Bandog's attitude to the back of her mind and hurried to make a move on the enemy base. She had chosen the only special weapon that they had available for her plane. It wasn't anything advanced, but it was enough to take out the enemies on the ground. Maybe she couldn't use them to take out the enemy en masse, but if she worked fast enough and kept an eye on her reserves, then she might not have to turn back and resupply, however tempting the idea of a break was.

"I wish these Erusean bastards weren't hiding like this. Damn cowards. I don't wanna die kissing the ground like an idiot!" Champ spat as the squadron scattered and began attacking small portions of the base. Most of them spent way too much time with one target, although she did notice they were getting a bit more organized. Champ was continuing to prove himself to be the most gung-ho out of the group, as well as the most bitter towards the Eruseans for whatever noticed he didn't rely on his missiles as much as they did, preferring to chase the ground targets down and fire at them with the guns. In a rocky area like they were in now, Naomi wondered if he was too reckless. No surprise he got thrown into the penal unit, though. The guy was a danger to himself and others from the looks of things.

"Y'know, I never was any good at hide-and-seek," Full Band said as he lazily maneuvered his plane down towards the enemy warehouses. Naomi saw him fire a missile and then pull up just as it exploded. Naomi switched to her special weapons and made a move for the massive gas tanks that they'd positioned dangerously close to their AA guns and a couple of hangars. She fired the guided bomb at the first tank, which blew up and as expected brought the other with it. The fire then spread from there, taking out two other targets with it. Full Band spoke up again, "Pfft. Trigger, you make it look so easy. Quit showing off already!"

"Does anyone besides Trigger think they can hit the target?" Tabloid challenged his squadron.

"Yes," came Count's reply.

Naomi grinned at this as she circled around the base to pick out her next target. She heard High Roller sigh suddenly. He sounded tired when he finally spoke, "I know the base commander makes a big deal whenever a new mission comes in, but lately it's just been one after the other. Like that was the plan all along or something. It's really getting tiring, y'know?"

"Battle doctrines," Tabloid explained simply, starting to sound agitated just talking about it. "If something happens, they tell you what to do next. Osea has one and it probably even says where and when pawns like us will die."

"Wait, so you mean they already know the next strategy?" Full Band asked, somewhat skeptical.

Naomi was trying to focus on the base, but what they were talking about was an interesting bit of information. "Well, it makes sense," she said. "At least for regular units, anyways. Everything could change in an instant, though, so they probably will be looking at their options before they decide to send us in. Can't help but wonder what the next one is gonna be."

"Hold up, hold up, now! Before we start getting ahead of ourselves, let's make a bet. Whoever guesses the next strategy wins." High Roller sounded much happier, obviously perking up now that he had something to bet on. "You know, you can get in on this too, Bandog."

Bandog gave an indignant harrumph at this. "Maybe you guys need to cool your heads off —" there was a pause as he finished his sentence in a much darker tone "—in solitary." Obviously solitary was the go-to method for keeping them all in line. If only Bandog had the same threat hanging over his head, although Naomi figured that if he did, then he'd be even stricter and meaner than he already was, just to make sure they didn't screw up. Of course, with McKinsey as a commanding officer, he probably got yelled at just the same.

"Well, let me look into this...'doctrine' thing," Full Band said quietly, ignoring Bandog's threat. Obviously, he wasn't worried. "I have some other things to check out, anyways, so I'll just kill two birds with one stone. It shouldn't be too hard."

Another pilot scoffed at this. "Man, you're delusional."

"Full Band, he's got a point," Naomi said carefully. "HQ is guarded 24/7, and that's where all the information is going to be. How do you expect to get in there and get that information?"

"A bribe is all ya need to look into a terminal, Trigger," Full Band replied confidently. "After that, it just gets easier and easier. It's amazing how many people write their password on a note by their desk. Gathering intel is all about getting access, simple as that." Naomi was only half listening to him as she continued to fire at the enemy base, taking care of a tank. Full Band was getting distracted by the conversation and hadn't done as much work as the rest of the squadron.

As a tank burst into flames, she heard High Roller shout, "Would ya look at that! The murderer's done it again." Any joy she might have gotten out of how impressed he sounded immediately faded upon hearing her newest nickname. Sure, he didn't mean anything by it, but why did it roll off their tongues so easily? Naomi couldn't help but wince. It wasn't true. She wasn't a murderer. To keep herself in check, she fired a missile at a SAM and watched it blow up, tired of the warning blaring in her ear.

Naomi pulled up and leveled out, able to see a few dark spots against the sky, flying in a formation. Were they birds? They looked too big and too fast. Naomi checked her radar. Sure enough, something was showing up. _Please don't let them be drones, please..._ "Uh, Bandog, I've just picked something up on radar. They could be…um…aircraft of some sort, but they're pretty small. Can you verify?"

Bandog barely took a minute to answer. "You're right, Spare 15. Aircraft are approaching at high speed! Bearing 280, stay alert!" Naomi clenched her teeth and felt sweat forming on her forehead as she waited for Bandog's voice, lacking in urgency, to come again. She felt her throat tighten as the exact words she didn't want to hear suddenly came, "They're drones."

"Shit!" Naomi snarled almost immediately in response, wanting so desperately to punch something or to just go somewhere and shout and take her anger out verbally until her throat burned from the effort. She hated those damned drones. Every time they showed up, everything went to hell and she had to deal with the aftermath. "Damn, this is just my luck…"

"Ah, so these must be the infamous drones," Full Band said, ignoring Naomi's brief outburst.

"They can dogfight without pilots?!" someone asked, and Naomi rolled her eyes at his ignorance.

"Erusea started using them at the beginning of the war," Naomi explained, trying to keep her voice level. It wasn't working too well and she was aware that the others could pick up on her anger. She could see the drones approaching, getting closer and closer, practically handing out death certificates. If the IUN's pilots with years of experience were barely match for them, Spare Squadron would be easy pickings. "If I remember correctly, the idea is for them to best and ultimately replace pilots in combat in an attempt to 'reduce casualties', whatever the hell they mean by that…"

"That's some dystopian sounding shit right there. Machines are _not_ replacing humans!" Champ insisted, although he didn't sound convinced of his own words. Naomi could hear fear creeping into his voice and was suddenly concerned for the wellbeing of those around her. Sure, she barely knew them, but she'd already lost her freedom thanks to these drones and watched two squadrons go down. If she wanted them to trust her then she had to make sure they made it out alive. Would they make it out?

Bandog snapped her out of her thoughts. "Oh, calm down, you morons. They're just obstacles in your way. Don't forget your original mission, alright? Focus on the enemy base. Understand?"

"Bandog, I've faced these things in combat before," Naomi said, hoping to convince Bandog to let them withdraw and reduce casualties. "They aren't going to let up. It's going to make this mission impossible!" Of course any losses from their squadron would be minor inconveniences to the top brass, although Naomi believed that any losses to their squadron would be a loss to McKinsey.

"Yeah, it's bad enough just dealing with the surface," Full Band added.

"Here's how it works," Bandog sneered. "You do whatever missions we give you and follow whatever orders we give. You've already done a fair amount of work to their ground units, but I see some of you still have ammo. So what you're going to do is continue the attack. Keep yourself nice and exposed until _I_ say otherwise. Now shut up and take care of the enemy." Suddenly, Naomi knew what she wanted to punch. Or rather, who.

Nonetheless, she gritted her teeth and continued with the attack, moving on with the others towards the last section of the base. It didn't take long for her to notice that the rest of Spare was hesitating to rejoin the attack, a few of them flying at a high altitude, away from the fighting, as if they were trying to decide whether or not they were going to obey the order. A few of them were hiding in the clouds, but the rest slowly rejoined the attack.

"Did the jailer know about the shit storm he was sending us into?" Full Band demanded as he began to attack the enemy base again, however unenthusiastic it was.

"Penal units are just pawns," Tabloid reminded him with a sigh.

"That lying son of a bitch!" Champ spat, bringing words to Naomi's own feelings. Apparently she wasn't the only one pissed off by the situation, no surprise there.

"Don't pretend like you deserve any better!" Bandog yelled at them. "Do you want McKinsey on your asses? Because I don't! Continue with the operation _now_!"

Naomi groaned with frustration as she took out the enemies hangars. There was a lull in the conversation as they evaded missile locks from the drones and followed their orders. It was getting frustrating, not knowing if the missiles were coming from the ground or the air. She did notice that High Roller, Count, and Full Band were trying to handle the air, taking out helicopters before quickly returning to the ground forces. Naomi saw them firing at the enemy SAMs while she took out the radar tower.

She felt a chill run down her spine as Count let out a bitter laugh. "You _really_ are good at murdering people, Trigger," he taunted and Naomi clenched her fist, positive that her knuckles were turning white at this point. Did Count and Bandog live to make her life at the 444th as miserable as possible? "Too easy for someone who's used to killing presidents."

"Ex-presidents," Full Band corrected him unenthusiastically.

"So, what's the difference?" Count almost hissed, not happy about being told he was wrong. Before anyone could answer — and Naomi so desperately wanted to — she heard him say, "Whatever, she's still got three sin lines, ex-president's murder or not."

"I'm not a murderer, Count!" Naomi growled at him. He was walking a very thin line and was incredibly close to crossing it. Naomi decided that she was tired of sitting and taking everything they said to her. She didn't take it on her first day and she wasn't taking it now, not when she was this fed up and stressed out with everything going on around her. "But fine, believe a lie if you want to. I really don't care…"

Count said nothing in reply, and she was actually grateful in a way. Naomi looked up at the drones and then tilted her plane to the side so she could see the damage done to the base. For the most part, they could probably let up on the base for a little while. Her blood ran cold and she immediately straightened out her plane when she heard High Roller suddenly radio for help. "This is Spare 7 — aww, shit! Someone get this enemy off my tail!"

"I can't, I've got my hands full, too," Count replied and Naomi saw him go after another enemy helicopter. "Trigger, go help him out!"

She sputtered, trying to find the words. She couldn't get to him in time, there just wasn't a way. Naomi saw the drones swarming around him in the distance, just like they had done with Harling's aircraft. She reacted fast and tried to get to him before the drones decided it was time to finish him off. The second she heard one of the others shout, "High Roller! Missile! Shake it off!" she knew that she was too late.

"Goddamn it, I'm hit!" High Roller yelled, growing more and more frantic with each word. Naomi was almost there…if he could just hold on for a few more seconds, then he just might make it out of it. "Don't worry, I'm still at the table!"

"High Roller! Missile! Another one!" Tabloid cried out, and Naomi noticed that he had followed Naomi to go help out their wingman. "Evade, High Roller!"

"Heh…I've got a bet on me getting out of this —" High Roller's last words cut to static as the missile struck his plane and Naomi watched as his plane began falling to the desert ground below. It wasn't long before the rest of the squadron became aware of the loss and confused chatter broke out. It was her fault, wasn't it? If she'd spent less time sightseeing then he'd be alive.

"Hey! Someone's down!" Champ shouted nervously. "Who is it?!"

"It's High Roller!" Tabloid answered, his tone something close to a mix of despair and fear. "He's been taken out! The drones killed him…Trigger and I couldn't reach him in time!" Now he was starting to sound angry, possibly with himself. Naomi didn't know how to feel. She'd watched Skeleton Squadron drop one by one at the hands of these machines before the remainder were trapped by the Arsenal Bird's shield. For some reason, this was different though. Was she angry? Sad? Did she even care about High Roller at all? It isn't like his death affected her...

"Don't piss your pants over one aircraft being down," Bandog scolded.

"Hey, what happens to a bet when the banker's out?" Full Band asked and Naomi finally was clear as to what she was feeling. Disgust and anger. Never mind the fact that their wingman had just died, all that mattered was the money that they bet, apparently.

An annoyed reply came from one of their other wingmen. "It's voided, you moron."

Naomi let out a growl of frustration and began to tangle with the drones, Tabloid and one other wingman right behind her. The drones were quick, evading every missile fired at them, managing to get behind them before they even knew what was going on. Evidently, they'd gotten better since her last run in with them. Suddenly, Tabloid shouted, "Damn it! Another man down! They got him!"

The rest of the squadron was starting to panic. "Shit, they've even got fighters getting ready to take off from that tunnel! There's no point in staying!" Full Band said. "Retreat!" Naomi saw him and Champ break off from the rest of them, careful to avoid the drones as they began to run away. Something that he said caught her attention, though. They had fighters taking off from within the tunnel? Naomi fired a missile at a drone and she finally managed to destroy it.

"Follow your orders! Continue the operation!" Bandog shouted at them as they began a retreat. "Deserters will be punished!"

"This isn't even a fight, it's a sacrifice! You wanna lose all your pilots?" Champ snapped at him.

"Shut up!" Bandog spat. Naomi was finding it difficult to focus with the two of them going at one another.

"Try and stop me!" Champ replied. By now, Naomi could no longer see them in the sky. They weren't coming back.

"If anyone wants to die, let 'em," Full Band said with an air of superiority. It's as if he thought that retreating was the right option. McKinsey would have a ball with these guys. They'd probably spend the entire night in solitary, or longer if Naomi had learned anything in the time she'd been with them. She continued to battle with the drones, slowly making her way back to the enemy base to verify Full Band's claim about the fighters.

"Well I'm getting behind Trigger," Tabloid said as he formed up on her wing like he had at the start of the mission, covering her tail and chasing off any drones that got a lock on her. "Stick with the best if you want to survive." Naomi once again felt embarrassed by the compliment, although she didn't have time to think on it for too long with the enemy continuing to swarm. Those drones acted like cockroaches, which also meant it wasn't too hard to squash them if you were able to keep them from scurrying away. Easier said than done.

"Poor decision on your part," Count snapped at Tabloid. "_I've_ still got top score." _Bullshit_.

"Count?" Tabloid let out a cold laugh at this, and even Naomi couldn't help but be amused by the obvious lie. "Man, you're useless."

"Everyone knows you inflate your numbers," Champ added in. Count went silent again, and Naomi could picture the look on his face almost perfectly. Still, she felt bad for him. Getting called out in front of everyone was embarrassing, but it was also life in the military. He was probably used to it by now.

"Champ, Full Band, shut up and engage or face punishment!" Bandog snapped, and Naomi had the feeling he wasn't going to let that go anytime soon.

"Keep yappin' away, little guard dog," Champ taunted the AWACS. "Your little mutt back at base must be furious that you waste so much time barking!"

Bandog's voice was dark and bitter as he growled at Champ, "You'll pay for this…"

"Well, looks like we're the only ones having fun out here," Count scoffed as he joined them to take on the drones. Naomi flew right past him as she headed towards the enemy base below, spotting the tunnel Full Band mentioned and a Gripen that was taxying. She got a lock and took it out, pulling up and circling back around. Count briefly got her attention, "Trigger! The one with the highest score wins. Let's settle who's best once and for all."

"You're on, Count!" Naomi replied, her confidence returning. She lowered her altitude and adjusted the angle of her plane as she approached the tunnel. She was taking them out before they could take off and cause them even more trouble. Then she'd worry about the drones. For now, it seemed Count and Tabloid had it handled just fine. Taking a deep breath, she got into the tunnel. It was high enough that there was enough space between her and the planes down below. She got a lock on the first one and fired. One down, two to go.

Obsessively checking her speed and working to keep her Falcon at a decent angle, she felt sweat pouring down her face and could hear how shaky her breathing had become. Finally she'd finished taking care of the enemy planes in the tunnel, squinting as she flew through the smoke from the explosion, some of the debris scraping across her plane. She still had to get out of the tunnel. "Uh, is Trigger still alive?" she heard Count ask, but she was too busy trying to get her breathing under control and get out to respond.

"Trigger crashed, pfft. Drueling idiot!" Bandog growled, almost sounding disappointed.

"No…she went into that tunnel! Ha! She's crazy!" Tabloid said, and she could hear the amazement in his voice.

The exit was right there, she just had to hold on a little longer. As soon as she cleared the tunnel and saw the open sky above her, she abruptly pulled up and let out a joyful cry, surprised she had actually managed to pull that off. Her breathing was still a mess, but she managed to exclaim, "WHOOOOHOOO! YES! Hahaha! Did you guys see that? I can't believe I just did that! That's flying, right there! Oooh, shit…that was amazing!"

"You dumbass!" Bandog scolded her, but even his awful attitude wasn't enough for her excitement to go away. In that moment, she'd even forgotten about High Roller's demise and Spare's retreat and was unable to wipe the grin off of her face. "You could have crashed, moron! Do you ever think before you do something?!" Naomi ignored him as she flew away from the base to join Count and Tabloid with the drones.

"You aren't like the ones who scurried back to base, Trigger, I'll give you that," Count said, almost sounding impressed. "In case you're wondering, the competition is still on and because of your reckless stunt you've got some catching up to do."

"Not a problem," Naomi chirped, her energy restored. She wasted no time chasing down a drone, keeping on its tail and firing a missile at it. The missile struck and the drone was down. Now she just had to find a way to do that times about twenty. The longer it took, the more difficult to hit the drones seemed to be getting. She wasn't planning on letting them get away that easily. The drone kept trying to get on her tail, and each time Naomi would manage a High G turn to get it off. Finally she managed to get a lock and immediately fired the missile. She smirked as the drone suffered the same fate High Roller and the other Spare Squadron pilot had.

"Spare 15 downed another! Counting the one from earlier, that's three!" Tabloid announced cheerfully. Naomi rolled the plane and chased down another, taking it out with ease before moving onto the next. Within a few seconds it was down. She heard Tabloid speak again, his voice kind and encouraging, "Wow! Nice job, Trigger! That's five!"

"Thanks, Tabloid," she said with a smile. Naomi moved on to the next target, which was proving more difficult than the others had been. Could drones taunt people? Because she felt like it was rubbing it in her face how maneuverable it was.

"I've shot down six," Count said smugly.

To Naomi's surprise, it was Bandog who spoke up, "Bullshit. You're still on two!" Naomi held back a laugh at this, trying not to lose the drone.

"Hey! Are you sure your radar's working right?" Count demanded, and she heard Tabloid laugh at this. Even she couldn't help but join in. The three continued to follow orders and engage, focusing on the drones rather than the base. There wasn't much left of the base, actually, other than rubble and fires. There were a few Erusean's that had managed to retreat, but they weren't going to chase them down. Count chuckled, "Y'know something? I'm finally finding my groove. If only I could bring a radio to lift my spirits…"

Naomi chuckled as she finally took down the drone and moved onto the next. "Uh…Count, please tell me you aren't planning on singing to make up for it?"

Tabloid laughed, however Count didn't seem to find the humor in what she said. "Hardy-har, Trigger," he said, his sarcastic laugh a rather unimpressive reaction. "Tell me, did you ever consider being a comedian? Because I can see why you aren't one." Unlike him, Naomi was able to laugh at herself. Okay, so Count was pretty good at roasting people. Naomi could appreciate his jokes.

The missile warnings started to blare in her ear again. Once again, Bandog surprised her by shouting, "On your ass! Evade already, Spare 15!"

Naomi narrowly missed getting hit by the drone's missile and maneuvered around it to give it a taste of its own medicine. "Hey, Bandog!" she called out as she did this. "Was that concern that I heard in your voice?" Bandog grumbled something in reply and she simply laughed as she worked to get a lock on the drone. Finally she got one and fired at it. The missile thankfully hit its mark and the drone was out of commission.

"Seven down!" Tabloid laughed as he took out his own target. "That's more than an ace!" In spite of being outnumbered, it would have appeared that the three remaining Spare pilots had the upper hand. Tabloid was making quick work of the drones, same as Naomi and Count, focusing on keeping them off his wingmen while they fought. It wasn't long before Naomi heard Tabloid call out the next and final kill Naomi got, "Spare 15 is cleaning up! Ten crafts down!"

The rest of the drones started to head back, and Bandog announced, "Okay. You've hit the enemy base enough. The operation is complete. Head back." Bandog took a deep breath before he added, "I never thought I'd say this, but you did one hell of a job out there, Spare Squadron. The bastards who flew off are going to wish they were never born. You guys get a pass."

"Damn right…" Count said as he flew in front of Naomi and Tabloid, leading the way back towards the base.

"I wouldn't be surprised if we're thrown in solitary too," Tabloid said sadly, the exhilaration fading away and returning the squadron to their usual mood.

Full Band suddenly shouted over the radio, as cheerful as Naomi, Tabloid, and Count had been just moments before, "Hey! Who wants to bet on who goes to solitary?! That's what that gambling nutjob would say if he were still here!" Although Full Band laughed, Naomi found herself unable to find the humor in what he said. It was an insensitive thing to say, possibly even disrespectful to a degree. Count and Tabloid didn't react either.

Bandog quickly took notice of this. "Oh, c'mon! Where's your sense of humor, guys? Your buddy's making a joke. Laugh already." Naomi huffed in annoyance. As if you could just laugh and be happy the second someone ordered you to. There was long pause before Naomi noticed something on the radar. Bandog must have noticed it as well. "Wait a minute…one of the drones didn't withdraw…shit! Spare 2, incoming!"

Naomi saw the drone before Count could react to it. It got a lock within seconds and fired at him. She had to think fast and did the only thing she could think of. Count started to evade and the missile started to follow. Naomi jerked her plane between the missile and Count's tail, feeling the entire aircraft lurch from the impact of the missile on her wing. She saw the drone circle back around and so did Tabloid, quickly taking it out. What the hell caused it to do that instead of following the others?

Her entire body was trembling as she recovered, but the plane was wobbly and difficult to control. She saw the smoke first. "Shit, where'd that bastard even come from? Uhh...This is Spare 15…my wing's been hit…umm…I can still fly, so I should be able to…uh...able to make it back to base." Naomi couldn't get a good look at her wing, since she could only turn so far in the seat. "Count, Tabloid, could either of you assess the damage? I can't really see it."

Count was the first to respond, almost as shaken as she was. "Trigger, you should consider yourself real lucky," he answered her and Naomi wondered what he meant by that. Surely it just hit the tip, right? Turns out, she was wrong. "Nearly half your wing got blown off by that missile…I don't know how much longer you're gonna be flying that thing…" Just like with Bandog a few minutes earlier, she heard what sounded like concern in Count's voice. Was he grateful for her taking that missile hit for him? "That was a dumbass stunt, Trigger. You could have gotten hurt."

"I'll be fine," Naomi answered, her words unintentionally sharp. How difficult would it be? She leveled her plane and tried to keep it from wobbling so much. "Sorry, Count…I didn't mean to snap at you. I can just limp home…it'll be fine."

"Not like you have another choice," Bandog muttered to her as they continued on the course home.

* * *

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**July 4th, 2019.**_  
**2100hrs.**

The flight back to the base was spent in silence. They weren't able to catch up to the others, so they lacked the safety in numbers they were used to. Naomi was fine with just the three of them, save for nearly half of her wing missing and her aircraft becoming temperamental as a result. Count and Tabloid kept a close eye on the radar in case there were any more surprises, but no more came from that. Although tired and more irritable than usual, they were all told by Bandog to report to the debriefing as soon as they landed.

Count landed first, followed by Tabloid. When Naomi's turn came, she wasn't looking forward to it. She wasn't sure if she'd even manage to steady the plane enough to keep it from crashing. The control tower started to guide her in, but Naomi wasn't ready to land just yet. She circled around the base and flew at a low altitude. She might as well finish the day off with a bang. Speeding up, ignoring her fighter's mechanical protests, she lowered the plane just above the height of the control tower and zipped past it just for good measure.

Needless to say, she got an earful while she was working on landing. It wasn't easy to stabilize the plane and land, but by some miracle she pulled it off. The tires screeched on the runway the second they made contact and gradually the plane came to a stop. Before she was able to start getting out, she heard the guy from the control tower snarl in her ear, "Go back to flight school already and learn some manners! The aircraft seriously can't handle your shit, dumbass!"

Naomi sighed and within a few minutes she had made it to the debriefing. Everyone was already there, waiting, and she found out that news of her buzzing the control tower had spread fast. Evidently Count and Tabloid had witnessed it themselves and they — along with the crew from the control tower — had told everyone before she got there. They saved her a seat between them and Tabloid whispered to her, "Crazy stunt you pulled. Can't say they didn't have it coming."

McKinsey cleared his throat. "Pipe down. Now that everyone's here, we'll get this debriefing over and done with…" He paused and looked over a sticky note he held in his hand. Finally, he said, "You lost planes. But the mission succeeded. However, I see that some of you crossed the return line for repairs and the rest of you ran away from the fight. This will result in solitary. Take them away."

The guards immediately made a move on them and Naomi watched as all of her wingman were dragged away, a look of defeat on all of there faces. There was a spark of defiance in Count and Tabloid's eyes, and they struggled against the grips the guards had on their shoulders before they gave in. Naomi waited until they were all gone and rounded on McKinsey, fully registering everything he said. "Are you kidding me?! We did what you asked! Tabloid and Count didn't retreat but you drag them off to solitary anyways?"

The base commander glared at her. "If I had my way, you guys would never see the light of another day. You'd stay in solitary for the rest of your lives. Unfortunately, you guys are of some use to us."

Naomi approached him, drawing herself up so that they were face to face. "And we lost planes? Planes?! That's your only goddamn acknowledgement?! We lost pilots! Two _pilots_! They're dead now, you insensitive bastard, and all you care about are those scraps someone pulled out of a junkyard that you decided call a plane!" All the feelings she felt upon seeing the drones and watching High Roller go down were all coming out now. Forget punching Bandog, McKinsey was an even better target. She clenched her fist and prepared to hit him, but she couldn't and he didn't give her the opportunity.

The second she tensed and showed signs of getting violent with him, the remaining guards closed in on her and grabbed her, roughly pulling her away from McKinsey and bending her arms behind her at a painful angle. McKinsey smirked as he saw her wince and struggle against the guard's grasp on her arm. He stayed where he was, crossing his arms. His smirk quickly changed to a scowl.

"I see you still haven't learned how things are around here, Trigger, and I suppose you're going to have to learn it the hard way." He turned away from her, looking towards the map on the other side of the room. "You don't get the privilege of being an individual around here. You're all a number on a spreadsheet, just another unimportant and necessary casualty in war. You're a pawn and you don't matter. You're going to be joining your pals in solitary tonight. I was going to let you go free and Bandog insisted I let you and those other two have a pass, but…after you buzzed the tower and damaged that plane, I've decided not to. Take her away!"

Naomi fought the whole trip to solitary, not wanting to give in. From here on out she was putting up a fight with them. She wasn't going to let them shove her around just because they thought she killed Harling. It wasn't long before they reached one of the empty cells and unceremoniously shoved her inside, slamming the door. She stumbled forward and collided with the wall, grunting in pain. Every muscle in her body was screaming for mercy right now. Regardless, she shoved herself away from the wall and towards the door in one last attempt to fight back.

As expected, no good came from it and she slowly backed away to the wall and slid down to the dirt covered ground. Her lip began to tremble and she felt her eyes starting to mildly sting. She brought her knees up to her chest and did the only thing she could at that moment. She cried. High Roller was dead, Count almost got hit, she would probably have to retire her plane and for some reason she was dreading that…right now she couldn't control her emotions. Everything that had happened just came crashing down on her and in spite of the heat she felt herself starting to shiver and shake with every sob and breath she tried to take.

After a painfully long day she just wanted to go home. She missed her dad, she missed her family, she missed Osea, she missed Brownie…she wasn't close to High Roller, sure, but she still felt bad about his death. Although she kept telling herself to suck it up and deal with it, it didn't help her situation any.

If she didn't want a repeat of the incident that day, then she'd need to find a way to get Spare Squadron to keep it together in a fight. Running away wasn't the answer to everything and it just made them more vulnerable. Not to mention the drones. Naomi needed to toughen up and work harder to earn their respect and get them to listen to her more often. Somehow she'd shape these guys into a squadron.

* * *

Author's Note: _This is going to be the last double update for a good while, mainly because, while it gets the story moving along at a fast pace, it throws me off of a reasonable update schedule. What used to be 3-5 days of waiting gets turned into over ten days and it isn't fair to you guys to have to wait that long just for two chapters instead of one, so my sincerest apologies to those who have been patiently waiting for so long._

_The next chapter is by far one of the ones I've been looking forward to the most and I hope to have it out very soon!_


	12. I Name You My Enemy

Chapter Eleven: I Name You My Enemy

|…|…|…|

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**July 8th, 2019.**_  
**1200hrs.**

|…|…|…|

They spent the night after the mission in solitary, and the following days they were left with little freedom and spent most of it in solitary as well, and come Monday they were all split up to work outside for the day. Their food privileges hadn't yet been restored, so breakfast and lunch were out of the question. They split them up, sending half of them to do some work down at the fake airbase for whatever reason and the other half of them were to work with the mechanics in the hangar. Naomi got put in the same group as Tabloid and Count, and the mechanic they had the privilege of working with was the Scrap Queen herself.

A few guards barely kept watch on them outside as they carried out a conversation, and most of the guards had gone inside to the mess hall to eat. They kept rubbing it in their faces how they got to sit in the air conditioning and eat and drink cold water. All the while the prisoners worked out in the sun with bottles of room temperature water that tasted bitter and weren't the least bit refreshing. The guards didn't seem interested in watching them, though, so that was a plus.

Count took advantage of the lack of discipline currently taking place and pulled out a cigarette and lit it, leaning against the hangar door and looking out at the runway. Tabloid sat on a crate nearby with his bottle of water, carrying out an animated conversation with Count. Ever since the mission, Count had been less hostile towards Naomi after she took that missile for him. He was still a jerk, but he seemed to ignore her instead of confront her, which wasn't any better but she'd take it. Tabloid was his usual, cheerful self, although he looked as if he hadn't been getting much sleep since the incident. None of them had been close to or particularly big fans of High Roller, but they were all subdued since he'd died.

Naomi sighed as she watched them, then looked up at her damaged plane where she saw Avril clambering around on the remainder of her wing. The look on Avril's face told her that her cellmate didn't have good news. Avril shook her head and sighed with exasperation before she carefully climbed down from the F-16 and made her way over to Naomi. "I heard that you took a missile for Count," Avril said as she approached. "Foolish thing to do. He's a pain in the ass and you sacrificed a perfectly good plane for him."

"He's not _that_ bad. I mean, I'll agree, he is a massive pain, but…I dunno. I'd miss the pointless banter and competition. Besides, he did stay with me and Tabloid and fight." Naomi gave a small smile and glanced over at Count and Tabloid. Looking back to Avril, she put on a serious face again. Walking past Avril, she reached up and ran her hand along the side of her plane. "So…I take it you can't do anything for the wing, huh?"

"Yes and no," Avril replied simply, crossing her arms. Naomi looked at her, raising an eyebrow and inviting further explanation. She grunted with effort and limped forward to stand beside Naomi and under the wing. "I can repair pretty much any old piece of junk at this air base. But here's the thing…I don't have everything that I need to repair it. They give me the shit strewn around here and that's it. I could try it with what I have, but it'd take a while and you'd have to fly something else until I fixed it. At this point, it's best to just scrap it and use it for parts. I mean, this is the only F-16 we've had so far that made it back from an accident in one piece…more or less. Last guys that flew one of these trashed 'em. By now, they're probably at the bottom of the ocean."

"Oh…" Naomi wasn't going to lie by saying that she was fine with the idea. She'd actually grown rather fond of her little plane. It was more of a ridiculous sentimental thing. It was all she technically had left of Fort Grays and her previous squadron. Maybe it was time to accept that officially she was a member of Spare now. They probably had to give up the planes they originally flew and they didn't seem too bothered by it. Sighing, she knew she had to accept that it wasn't a pet of some sorts. It's not like she was giving up her dog or something like that. "Well, Avril…er…you're the expert, not I. Do whatever you think is best."

"Alrighty then," Avril said with mock enthusiasm, tilting her head to one side ever so slightly. "I restored a few extra planes a while back. I'll talk to McKinsey about getting you in one of 'em before the next mission." Naomi gave her a nod and offered a grateful smile, but it wasn't returned as Avril immediately brushed her off and gave her work her full attention. That was the most civil interaction she'd had with her yet.

Naomi shrugged it off and grabbed her water bottle, looking back at Avril once more before she made her way across the hangar to join Count and Tabloid. As she approached, the smell of cigarette smoke briefly burned her mouth and she could taste it on the air. Count turned towards her and blew out some of the smoke in her direction, entirely on purpose. She waved it off and gave a small cough. "Hello to you too, Count," she said sarcastically. "Enjoying destroying your lungs, are we?"

Count gave a fake laugh at this. "Hilarious," he commented, examining the cigarette for just a second before taking another drag. "Don't tell me you're one of those crazy health nuts that despises smoking and fast food. I bet you don't drink, either. Right?"

"I'm not a health nut, I've just never been a fan of smoking," she replied simply, putting the cap on her water bottle and setting it down on the ground beside her. "I'm indifferent on fast food. As for drinking, a beer once in a while is no problem. Now that's how you unwind, but, to each his own, I suppose. We all have different ways of letting loose." Count nodded slowly in agreement and the three of them fell into silence for a minute or two. Naomi finally tried to start a conversation up, raising a genuine concern she had, "Hey, Tabloid. I saw you talking to Full Band this morning and I figured we'd see him around. They didn't put him back in solitary, did they?"

Tabloid shrugged. "I don't think so," he said, furrowing his brow. "Full Band said that he was gonna try and sneak into HQ and get ahold of one of their computers. Apparently he really does want to check out the doctrine I mentioned." Tabloid shrugged and looked down at his hands. "I think he mentioned convincing Bandog to help him sneak in. I don't know how he expects that to work out."

"Yeah, especially after Full Band and the others got Bandog's ass chewed out by McKinsey," Count added with a chuckle. "Full Band would be lucky if Bandog didn't decide to sell him out to the guards just for the hell of it." Naomi didn't know what to think of Bandog, nor did she know whether or not to agree with Count. He did try and get the three of them out of solitary, though he must not have tried too hard since they got thrown in anyways.

"Ah, you never know," Tabloid said optimistically. "Maybe he'll go easy on the guy for once."

"Maybe…" Naomi agreed. She looked up at the clear, crystal blue sky overhead and gave a longing sigh. It was a perfect day, and here they were, stuck on the ground. "I wish we could fly today." Naomi looked away from it and back at Count and Tabloid. "Don't they allow us any training or anything to keep us in shape around here?"

"Nope," Count huffed and blew some smoke out of his mouth, watching it drift through the air. There was contempt in his voice as he went on, "If you want to get any exercise or PT then you behave like a good little prisoner and get let out in the yard on your daily walk. Or you stay cooped up in your cell and work on your pushups. We don't get a lot of options and unless we're working on them or they can get some use out of us, they don't let us near a cockpit."

Tabloid scowled. "It's bullshit if you ask me," he said. "We could all use the the extra experience. And they wonder why we're out there dropping like flies."

Once again, there was nothing more than silence as they went about their break. A dog barking in the distance broke the silence and the three of them perked up to get a look at the source of the sound. Two people and a dog were on their way towards the hangar, and there wasn't much doubt in Naomi's mind who it was. Count took one last drag before he dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his heel. "Looks like Bandog and Full Band," he said with a sigh. "Time to find out what they've been up to."

The closer Bandog and Full Band got, the louder their conversation became. As soon as Sarge saw Naomi, Tabloid, and Count, she broke off from Bandog and came sprinting into the hangar. Naomi grinned and crouched down to greet the guard dog, who wagged her tail eagerly and attempted to jump up and lick Naomi's face. Count groaned in disgust as he watched them. "What's the matter, Count? Not a fan of dogs?" she teased, patting Sarge on the side.

"I have no problem with _normal_ dogs," Count replied, clearly annoyed. "Y'know, dogs that aren't around me for the sole purpose of breaking my arm if I get out of line."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Count, you'd have to make this dog pretty damn mad for her to bite down that hard," she said. Leaning close to Sarge, she made her voice go higher as she spoke more to the dog than to Count, "But why would you wanna do that, huh? She's such a sweet girl! Yes she is! Isn't that right Sarge? Pretty girl!"

Count wrinkled his nose, stifling a laugh. "Women and their strange attachment to animals is something I'll never understand," he said, shaking his head. Naomi scowled at his comment and stood up, wiping the dog hair from off of her flight suit. Count chuckled and pushed himself away from the hangar door, cautiously approaching Sarge and giving her a couple of pats on the head. He looked at Naomi. "Happy now that I've given Bandog's mutt some attention, Trigger?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but Bandog and Full Band were finally within earshot and she was cut off by Bandog shouting, "I put my ass on the line for you, Full Band, which is more than you deserve after you turned tail and ran the other day!" Full Band simply kept walking, ignoring the scene they were making. The guards barely acknowledged it, though, so it probably wasn't about anything too serious. However, something had Bandog worked up. "Full Band, are you listening to me? McKinsey is going to kill both of us if he finds out. You cut it way too close!"

As if Bandog wasn't even there, Full Band greeted the three of them with a friendly smile as he entered the hangar. "Afternoon, gentlemen," he said to Tabloid and Count, then quickly added with a look towards Naomi, "And ladies, of course." Naomi offered a smile of her own as he gave her a pat on the shoulder.

"You're in an awfully good mood, Full Band," Tabloid said as he stood up from his seat. "I'm amazed, what with Bandog shouting at you like that. What's he going on about, anyways?"

It was Bandog who answered Tabloid's question, "Full Band nearly got caught snooping where he shouldn't have." Full Band crossed his arms and sighed, obviously not pleased by the treatment he was receiving from Bandog. "Like a dumbass I kept watch and he nearly got us both caught." Bandog walked himself right up to Full Band, towering over him, and snapped, "Next time, you're on your own, Full Band!"

"Well, if that's the case, then you don't get anymore compensation or any intel I manage to dig up," Full Band replied calmly, but he was smiling when he said this. Bandog seemed to consider what he said carefully. To Naomi's surprise, Full Band put his hand on Bandog's back and guided him over to the crate that Tabloid had previously been sitting on. "Well, I'll tell you all what I found before you make your decision. Aaand I'll even throw in some extra cash for _you_, Bandog."

Count crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, interested in the conversation that was about to take place. "So you decided to start sneaking around again, eh?"

"What'd you find out this time?" Tabloid asked. "More useless info that wasn't worth the risk?"

"Quite the opposite, actually, Tabloid," Full Band replied. He seemed rather confident in whatever it was he found out. "Remember how High Roller wanted to make a bet about who would guess the next strategy based on that doctrine thing or whatever?"

"Yeah, we do," Naomi replied. _Kind of hard not to_, she added to herself. It was his last official bet, after all, unless you counted his last words as a final bet. If she had to compliment that guy on one thing now that he was gone, it was that he made an impression. "I didn't think that anyone took it seriously after…well, after he died. Why do you ask?"

Full Band grinned. "Because I won the bet. I guessed the next strategy for the regular forces, anyways. I dunno about us." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, he showed the side that had writing on it to his wingmen. "Well, technically I didn't guess it, but I did put a bunch of puzzle pieces together to get the full picture."

Bandog reached forward snatched the paper from Full Band's hand, looking it over with suspicion. "This says that they're sending in a few fighters to Erusea for a reconnaissance mission," he said, reading it carefully and holding it out of reach of Sarge, who kept trying to lick it. "Doesn't say what else…where the hell did you find out all of this, Full Band?"

"Now, if I told you all my secrets, then they wouldn't be secrets anymore," Full Band said, taking his paper back and returning it to the safety of his pocket. "Anyways, I've got to do some more digging, but I think McKinsey is trying to get involved in the operation anyway he can, so I think we might end up being sent out for some kind of support mission. Apparently the higher-ups in Osea are trying to keep it under wraps, though, and don't want a penal unit poking around out there."

"Why are they being sent into Erusea? What are they investigating?" Tabloid asked.

"I said that I need to do some more investigating. I don't know why they're there, I just know that they are," Full Band said. He looked around at them, then took a few steps closer after checking to see where Avril was and then how close the guards were. "I did find out something about McKinsey, though. Bandog, can I trust you to keep it between the five of us." Bandog took a moment and then nodded slowly. "Alright…well, I found out that ever since the start of the war, McKinsey has been receiving large sums of money from somewhere — apparently the same thing happened in the Circum-Pacific War that started an investigation.

"Anyways, they first started coming through after Erusea took the Lighthouse. He's also been receiving some mail from various places. Only problem is that all of the letters and emails I managed to uncover are written in two different languages." Full Band paused before he slowly said, "They were in Erusean and Belkan, from the looks of things." Naomi and Tabloid both gave Full Band their full attention as soon as he said 'Belkan'. For Naomi it was an instinctive reaction, but for Tabloid? Why did he perk up?

"Wait, you said Belkan, right?" Naomi asked and Full Band nodded. Tabloid played it cool and settled down. That was odd. The letters being written in Belkan and Erusean was odd, too. Erusean was a common language to know, but few people flaunted the fact that they could speak or understand Belkan. Her dad had taught her only because he didn't see any shame in it. She didn't see any shame in it either, so she decided to offer her expertise. "Well…I'm fluent in Belkan. If you could bring one of the letters, then I could pick out the words written in it. Not sure about Erusean, though."

To her surprise, Count was the one who spoke up. "I can speak Erusean," he said. Everyone looked at him with expressions of shock that mostly said 'yeah right', which caused him to clear his throat and adopt an accent. Smugly, he said, "Je l'ai appris à l'école. Cela faisait partie d'un programme de crédit supplémentaire." Everyone stared at him. Naomi was actually impressed by it. Pleased that everyone was left wondering, he translated, "I said that I learned it in school. Osea had a couple of extra credit classes back in high school and most of them were languages, so I took Erusean and Sapinish."

Tabloid and Naomi were grinning, while Full Band and Bandog were still trying to process what had just happened. "Damn…and here I was thinking you actually had to be smart in order to know a different language," Tabloid said, laughing when Count reached forward and attempted to smack him on the back of the head for his quip. Tabloid dodged, but Count didn't give up. Eventually, through his laughter, Tabloid managed to hold his hands up and say, "Hey, hey, calm down, Count! Truce, alright?"

Full Band had finally recovered from the shock and was grinning. "Well, if Count and Trigger don't mind being our bilingual translating duo, then I could try and sneak back in to get some more info and one of those letters." He looked to Bandog. "I'm going to need your help again, though."

Bandog groaned in frustration. "Fine," he snapped. "I'll help you out, but I expect some compensation. McKinsey's still mad at me for letting you and the rest of those nutcases return to base."

"Hey, it was the mission and the ones who stayed behind who were crazy," Full Band said, glancing at Count, Tabloid, and Naomi. He meant well, since there was a bit of amusement in his voice. "Well, I guess we should get to work, huh? Bandog, you and I can try to get into HQ again tomorrow. Shouldn't be too long before things start getting real interesting around here, eh?"

Just like that, the group dispersed throughout the hangar to get to work on their planes. Naomi noticed a curious and suspicious look from Avril as she watched them all go about their day. She hadn't overheard their conversation, had she? If she had, would she turn them in? Naomi decided that it was best to keep an eye on her in case she had some sort of fondness for McKinsey. Knowing her attitude towards everyone, though, that didn't seem too likely.

* * *

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**July 12th, 2019.**_  
**0500hrs.**

The prisoners were all greeted by a rude awakening early one morning. The guards came through, shouting and making as much noise as possible as they came in to unlock their cells. Typically, the wake up call was an alarm blaring in their ears and the guards hitting the cells with the weapons they carried. There was probably a reason for the change of pace, not that Naomi was a big fan of it.

When Naomi sat up in her bunk, she saw that Avril had already climbed out of bed and was putting her leg brace on. She looked up when she noticed Naomi was awake and then went back to what she was doing. "The guards say that ya'll need to get to HQ for a briefing," she said curtly. "They're pretty pissed, so I'd suggest you hurry it up."

Groaning, Naomi hopped down and slipped her flight suit on over her 'regular' clothes and waited for the guards to reach their cell. They finally unlocked the cell and opened the door. "Good, you two are already awake," the guard said. He looked to Avril first. "Mead, McKinsey said that you're to go down to the hangars and prep the planes." Glaring as he stepped away from the door, he said to Naomi, "Trigger, you go with the rest of Spare to HQ _now_. You morons have kept the commander waiting long enough!"

Naomi sighed and watched them move on down the hallway. "See ya later, Avril," she said, waving goodbye to her cellmate. Avril barely acknowledged her, rolling her eyes as she tied her boots on. Naomi pushed through the prisoners that were filing out of the cellblock and made her way to the center of the crowd, where Count, Tabloid, and Full Band were walking. Although she was tired, she still managed to greet them in a cheerful tone, "Good morning, boys. What's going on?"

Count, looking more disheveled than he usually did, yawned and looked at her with a blank expression. "How on Earth are you this cheery in the morning? God…I feel like I'm gonna fall over."

"Why is there a briefing this early in the morning, you think?" Tabloid asked, scratching at the side of his face. "Usually they wait until we're all coherent enough to understand their insults…"

Full Band, the most lucid of the three of them, chuckled. "It's not like they don't wake us up early, y'know," he said. "They actually let us sleep in. Probably why they're so upset with us now." They all stepped outside, where the sky was just beginning to light up. It was a dark blanket of blue, most of the stars having faded with the approaching morning light. Full Band took a deep breath as they all exited the cellblock. Naomi did the same. It was crisp and cool, but it would be another hot day for sure. "I think I know what this mission's gonna be about, though."

"Really? Did you do some more digging?" Naomi asked eagerly. She'd been dying to know when Full Band and Bandog would finish their searching. She was still looking forward to finding out about those letters that Full Band found.

"Last night I went with Bandog to search McKinsey's office," Full Band replied, lowering his voice. "I was going to try and dig up some of those letters I mentioned, or print out one of the emails or something. However…he went back and deleted most of the emails and I didn't have time to search through his desk for the letters I saw. Anyways, I looked into the doctrine that Tabloid told me about and got the rest of the intel on the reconnoissance mission. The regular forces are due back today, so—" He cut off abruptly as they reached the door to HQ. Quietly, he said, "I'll fill you in on the rest later, alright?"

They watched him lead the way into the main building and into the briefing room. Full Band was the first to take a seat, choosing a spot towards the back of the room. During briefings, it had become the norm for Naomi to sit in the front row with Tabloid and Count on either side. She wasn't sure how, but at this point it was just a habit. The three of them took their seats, carrying out a quiet conversation amongst themselves before Champ joined them, plopping down in the seat beside Count. Clearly in a grouchy mood, he asked, "So anyone know why the hell we're gettin' up this early for a damned briefing?"

Naomi shook her head. "Our guess is as good as yours, Champ." He scowled at the lack of an informative answer and Naomi could only shrug and lean back in her seat. McKinsey wasn't there yet, and knowing him he'd keep them waiting even longer. To Count and Tabloid she said, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish McKinsey would hurry up and get his stupid ass in here…if we're gonna get to fly then could he just get us in the air and get it over with?"

"Sounds like somebody's gettin' a little antsy being on the ground," Count said, a small smirk on his lips.

"I like flying, is that such a crime?" Naomi asked. It wasn't until after she said it that she realized the poor choice in words. Count and Tabloid didn't seem at all bothered by what she had said, so she just assumed that they didn't care.

"Nah, it's not," Tabloid replied. "Otherwise most of the OADF would probably be here with us."

"I can't actually argue with you there, Trigger," Count said with a sigh. "Being in the sky beats being stuck in this hellhole…"

The conversation came to a halt as the base commander finally entered the room. Everyone groaned upon seeing him, but he didn't let it interfere with his 'cheery' attitude. McKinsey was his usual smug self. Apparently he was an early bird. Or just an annoying bastard. Naomi guessed that they could be one in the same. Instead of greeting them with 'good morning' as the computer started up, he jumped right into the briefing, "You know, I've recently received a medal for my ingenuity in finding a use for you cons."

"Glad we could be of service…" Naomi grumbled. He'd barely started talking and already she could feel a headache coming on. So far, the day was looking spectacular.

McKinsey glared at her. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But just remember that if you disobey orders, there's a special place in solitary confinement for you. Your so-called right to complain was forfeited the moment you chose to break the law. Do I make myself clear?" Everyone mumbled some sort of 'yes' and he nodded with satisfaction. "Okay, then. You get to go make yourselves useful."

The screen, as expected, displayed a map of the Usean continent. It showed a route from an allied base that led to Stonehenge. Wait…why were they all the way out there? "An Osean Air Force squadron is currently entering Erusean territory for reconnaissance. Due to certain factors, their return route has been changed." The line that showed the route changed into a perfectly straight line between Stonehenge and the allied base. "The new return route will be through Yinshi Valley, a scenic and rocky karst area."

It displayed a 3-D image of the rocks in the area, then a map appeared beside it that showed a few enemy locations. "The enemy's radar facilities and anti-aircraft weapons hidden on the mountainside pose a serious threat. Your mission is to destroy them and get our guys out in one piece, even if it puts your own lives in danger." McKinsey suddenly smiled. It was an eery smile that sent a chill down Naomi's spine. "And it is important to remember they will send up interceptors if you're detected. So you will need to choose something useful in a dogfight. The weather won't be on your side, but you're doing this whether you like it or not. Worry about the squadron's return route, not your own. Your mission is to get them back safely. Which I think is the perfect punishment for your crimes."

Of course. Any chance to put them at risk…oh well, at least it got them out of there for a while. McKinsey dismissed them and sent them all out to the hangars to get their planes ready. The others didn't really deviate from their usual choice in planes, in spite of the commander's advice. They probably didn't care. Naomi, on the other hand, wasn't sure what she was supposed to do with her F-16 out of commission.

When she arrived at the hangar where her plane was kept, she found a new plane in its place. New wasn't exactly the right word for it, since it was just a restored piece of junk, but it looked decent for the most part. An F-2A with a nice, dark blue paint job. It resembled Naomi's F-16, but had several noticeable differences. Not that she cared too much about it. Avril noticed her when she approached and finished up whatever she was doing before she greeted Naomi. "I talked with McKinsey and got him to get you somethin' pretty similar to what you already had," she explained, getting right to the point. "Nothing fancy and it'll take some getting used to, but it'll get the job done."

"It's nice…" Naomi said, ducking under the nose to run her hand along it. Smooth…clean for the most part. It wasn't in perfect condition, but it was something she could work with. She looked at Avril and gave a small smile. "Uhh…thanks?" It was unusual that the renowned Scrap Queen was actually doing favors for her, especially after the way she acted. _Maybe she's gonna finally calm down, maybe act a little nicer..._

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Avril responded briskly as she turned around and began to limp away. "Just don't wreck it, alright? I spent a lot of work on it."

_Spoke too soon_.

* * *

**Yinshi Valley, Usea.**  
_**July 12th, 2019.**_  
**1503hrs.**

It was a long flight and there were storms all along the way, causing the moral to plummet significantly as they were all fully aware that it would get worse once they arrived at the valley. For the most part, Naomi took the time to appreciate the scenery. The dark greens and brownish grays of the rocks below stood out against the grays and whites of the storm clouds. It was difficult to really see them, yes, but nonetheless she found herself studying it intently as they flew along in their usual, hectic idea of a formation, drawing closer to Yinshi Valley every minute.

Count and Champ were at the front, as always, leading the way through the clouds and area surrounding the valley. Tabloid flew towards the back, on Naomi's wing, with Full Band off to the sides. The rest of the squadron spread out to wherever they felt like flying. Naomi noticed that for once she hadn't been corralled to the back of the squadron's formation, instead flying safely surrounded by her allies. In a strange way, it offered some comfort. She wouldn't be the first to go out if they were attacked anyway, as morbid a thought as that was.

The wind began to pick up and the clouds became thicker and obscured the already limited view they had of the terrain ahead of them. With no other choice, the other Spare pilots lowered their altitude to duck under the clouds. Naomi pulled up over it, flying through the thin, upper part of it. She then carefully lowered her altitude. The F-2 wasn't half bad, in fact it handled surprisingly smooth in the weather. It wasn't her F-16, but it wouldn't be too hard to handle.

Several blips appeared on her radar, catching her attention. Naomi looked up, out of her cockpit. Between the rocks were the enemy targets, set up in a pattern that likely continued throughout the area. "Alright, Bandog," she radioed the AWACS, who'd been unusually quiet through the entire trip. "I have a visual on the targets. There don't appear to be that many."

"That's for the better, Trigger," Bandog grumbled in response. "This mission needs to be quick, so the fewer the better. Less can hide that way, too." He took a deep breath. "Alright, listen up Spare Squadron. You need to target radar facilities and AA weaponry. They take the top priority, but you're free to blow up any helicopters that wanna give you a hard time. Fair warning, the main targets are set up on rugged terrain and there's a lot of cloud cover. You _will_ be near thunderclouds, so be careful and stay sharp. Also, the wind and rain makes the airstream bumpy. Try not to damage those planes." Bandog scoffed as he added, "Man, you guys were born unlucky…"

Naomi could hear just a hint of concern in Bandog's voice, and he was oddly calm for once. Perhaps the information that he and Full Band had been working together to uncover coupled with how much time he'd been spending around the rest of them was starting to soften his attitude. Then again, he could be acting on his best behavior for their VIPs. Speaking of which, they should be arriving anytime now. Naomi started a dive for the first target. "Well, boys, you heard the man. Let's get to work, shall we? Careful of the rocks when you go down."

"Wait a minute," Champ said, maintaining a steady altitude while the rest of the squadron all got to work. "Who was the dumbass that came up with this batshit plan, anyways?" The answer was easy enough to figure out, but Naomi knew that Champ wasn't renowned for his intelligence. Quite the opposite, actually, but who was she to talk?

Bandog let out an exasperated sigh. "What does it matter, Champ? Just obey orders and get the job done. You can complain and badmouth HQ after we finish our escort."

As soon as Bandog had finished talking and Naomi had taken out the first two AA guns, a new voice came over the radio. "Air Force Base 444 Squadron, this is Cyclops 1. Feel free to call me Wiseman." The voice belonged to a man, likely the flight lead of the allied fighters. Naomi wondered if he was as bad a leader as McKinsey was. Probably not. Wiseman went on, "The Cyclops and Strider squadrons currently contain seven aircraft. Stand by. We'll be arriving shortly."

"Understood," was Bandog's short reply.

As Naomi weaved through the rocks to get to the next target, she saw that the rest of the squadron was all taking different routes to pursue the enemy. The rain pelted down against them and Naomi saw a few of them struggling against the wind. The only plus was that the rain hitting her canopy was kind of soothing in a way. She would have enjoyed watching it had she not been trying to navigate the valley and keep from crashing into the rocks.

"We're low on ammunition," Wiseman went on to explain. "It'll be hard to take on hostiles, so we'll have to rely on you guys to make it home." He seemed hesitant in saying this, probably dubious of Spare and how trustworthy they were. Naomi assumed that they had been briefed on the fact that they'd be joining a bunch of trigger happy convicts. Hell, Naomi was just starting to 'get' them and she still could easily see where these strangers were coming from.

"Cyclops 1, this is Bandog," Bandog replied. "We need the job done on time, so you shouldn't have to worry too much about support cooperating. They'll do what it takes, trust me." There was a weak, underlying threat to Spare Squadron hidden in his words that Naomi only noticed because she was used to him threatening them at this point. If he wanted to look like a good guy, then he could. She'd tell Full Band that he should be careful working with Bandog. Naomi didn't trust him entirely yet.

"Bandog?" the Cyclops leader repeated. "Heh. Cool name. It's nice working with you, Mr. Guard Dog." With that, the arriving allies went quiet. Naomi spotted them on radar, fast approaching. They didn't have much time left, meaning Spare had to work faster.

Naomi carefully maneuvered through the fog, spotting a radar site beside a SAM. That would be an issue. She kept herself flying low and at an angle, deciding that it was a good time to put her special weapons to use. It wasn't long before she got a lock on the first target. She fired and the radar site went up in flames. The missile warnings in her ear were the next thing to go, ceasing as soon as the SAM site was destroyed. All that was left was an AA gun that Naomi wanted to take out for good measure. She pulled up and pulled into a hard turn, narrowly missing one of the rock formations as she got a lock on the AA gun and fired. This mission was going to be a piece of cake.

The next radar site wasn't deep between the rocks, instead it was on the top of a massive rock formation that resembled a giant hill from the way Naomi was approaching it. She pulled up through the clouds, maintaining a good speed so that she could make a quick correction to her course in case the wind started beating her up. Checking her special weapons supply, she was sure she'd have enough to make it through the mission. The rest of the squadron was taking on the helicopters and AA guns hidden between the rocks, leaving Naomi, Count, and Tabloid with the SAMs and radar facilities. The 'difficult' stuff, apparently.

"I need missions that challenge me and help me improve my score, not this shit." Count grumbled as he carefully maneuvered through the rocks and took down a radar facility.

"Tell me about it…and these damned crosswinds are such a pain," Full Band complained. Naomi saw the faint speck of his plane make a wobbly descent in between two rocks to pursue one of the enemy helicopters. "How the hell are we supposed to fly like this if it's constantly trying to slam us into the rocks?"

"You use the winds to guide you, amateur," Count answered, his tone a mix of its usual arrogance and amusement at the situation. He actually made a pretty good point, for once. Perhaps his claims of glory weren't entirely false. He had a couple of good ideas and he was one of the better pilots, she had to give him that. As if it was something everyone should know, he didn't bother elaborating on his advice and went back to his task.

"Whatever…I'd rather be back in my cell right now," grumbled one of their other wingmen. "Hell, solitary is a nicer place than this." Naomi found the comparison unfair. They were free of the base commander for the next few hours and the only person they had to worry about bothering them was Bandog. Compared to the last mission, this one was a walk in the park. Simple and straightforward. It looked like they'd all make it out and spend the night out of solitary.

"You kiddin'?! No way I'm goin' back to the brig! Anything's better than solitary!" Champ bellowed, sounding…almost nervous. "Don't even think about getting in my way!" Everyone ignored his outburst, and Bandog didn't complain about it since it wasn't interfering with their task. If anything, it was motivating him to work even harder. He'd taken out a surprising amount of enemies, but they weren't done just yet.

Naomi was focusing on taking out the targets while the rest of her squadron conversed. Count brought up the long awaited topic that Full Band had said he'd finish later. "So, Full Band," he said. "Why are the regular forces sending reconnaissance planes so deep into Erusea?"

"Oh, that…" Full Band almost sounded disappointed that he'd brought it up during the mission. "They're investigating the ruins…that's all I know." So that's why they were near Stonehenge. Why would they need that? It was practically useless.

"You sure found out quick," Tabloid said. "You think they've got a secret weapon, maybe?"

"What, Stonehenge?" Naomi asked, not entirely buying it. "That's the only thing it could be, but that rust bucket's probably long dead by now. Why would they waste resources investigating that?"

"There's only so much I could find out." Full Band answered sheepishly, not seeming too interested in continuing the conversation. He probably wasn't comfortable discussing it when other people could overhear. Never stopped him before.

"Enough talk," Bandog ordered them. "The mission doesn't require it. You're all pushing it right now. Focus on the mission and take down the last two targets."

Naomi and Tabloid worked together to finish the mission up like Bandog had asked. The two of them twisted among the rocks, careful of the winds, and approached the enemy. Tabloid got a lock first and fired at the radar site, sending it up in flames. He pulled up and out from between the rocks while Naomi handled the last of the SAMs before joining him. Both circled back around to form up with the rest of their squadron. Bandog radioed them all once again, sounding satisfied, "All targets confirmed destroyed. No complaints here. Looks like you lot are getting out of solitary for once."

"Alright!" Naomi cheered. "Got finished just in time!" She looked out to the distance where a thunderstorm was closing in fast. Purple-ish blue lightning crackled, lighting up the dark gray clouds. A flight of seven F-15Cs was flying below them, just above the rocks, all in a perfect formation. _They must be Cyclops and Strider_, Naomi thought. There was a pang of jealousy at the fact that they were able to fly like that. So effortlessly and with actual order and skill, rather than all on luck. _Must be nice_.

Before Spare Squadron got too caught up in celebrating their minor victory, a member of the allied squadron suddenly interrupted them. "Caution! Bandits inbound!" the man called out. "Here come the UAVs." Naomi heard the last word and groaned in frustration. _Aw, not this shit again…_

"We might have crossed the line," Wiseman said calmly. What did he mean by that? What line? She didn't get the chance to ask him before the UAVs closed in on the squadrons' rear. Their planes zipped through the rocks, maintaining their formation as they each followed the plane in front of them. Naomi had a good look at them, and she was beyond impressed by their skill. No errors, not a single one. Wiseman spoke to his squadron, "We don't have the supplies. Leave this one to our friends."

"Wish we'd used that hole to get home too," one of them muttered. The planes discarded the drop tanks under their wings and veered away from the swarm of drones, flying right into the thunderstorm. Another bolt of lightning light up the sky, narrowly missing their planes.

"Well, things don't always go perfectly," Wiseman said to his wingman. All of the planes broke their formation and spread out throughout the clouds in an attempt to make themselves more difficult targets. They all split off into groups of two, some climbing above the clouds, some climbing below to the rocks, and the rest spreading out into the storm. If the UAVs got hit by lightning then things might just be a little easier on them.

As Spare Squadron continued on their own, the recon planes zipped past them, practically dancing with the UAVs on their tails. Suddenly, they all split up and spread out among the rocks to join their wingmen. Bandog shouted at Spare, urgency in his voice, "Shit! The drones have jumped on the recon team! Our friends aren't equipped for air-to-air, they need our support, you morons. All 444 aircraft, get them out of there! Not even one is to go down! Destroy the UAVs!"

Naomi swallowed hard as she saw the lightning becoming more and more frequent. They didn't have a choice. Their allies needed their help. She took a deep breath and took off for the nearest UAV that she was tracking on radar, chasing down one of Strider Squadron's aircraft. She heard Count in her ear. "That's impossible!" he shouted at Bandog, clearly not too pleased about the idea of flying through a thunderstorm.

"I'm not flyin' in there to help out some assholes I don't know shit about!" Champ snarled. He and the rest of the squadron were hesitating to engage, meanwhile Count, Tabloid, and Full Band began to follow, maintaining an altitude high enough so they wouldn't be in any danger of crashing or getting hit by lightning. They wouldn't be of any use up there.

"C'mon guys, show a little bravery once in a while," Naomi said as she began pursuit of the drone, maneuvering through the rocks as she tried to get missile lock on the slippery bastard.

"As they say in my house, there's a thin line between bravery and stupidity," Count snapped at her. Nonetheless, he and Full Band began to move to help out their allies. "Ah, what the hell…might as well get this over with."

"That's the spirit!" Tabloid chuckled as he stuck close to Naomi's wing, helping her out in cornering the drone.

"Hey, Count, how about we have a little fun out here. Think you're up for a little friendly competition?" Naomi asked him, trying to cheer him up. If she gave him a goal to work towards, maybe it'd give him the motivation he needed to focus on his job. This _would_ help his score after all. Count didn't respond at first. Uh-oh. Had he crashed? No, Full Band would have said something. Unless, of course, he didn't see it through the clouds. "Uh…Count, are you still alive, buddy?"

There was another few seconds of silence before Count suddenly shouted with a laugh, "That's one down for me, Trigger! Try and keep up!" Of course he did. Both Naomi and Tabloid laughed, able to set aside the urgency of their situation for a moment as they pursued the drone through the rocks. Naomi finally had an opening. She got missile lock and fired. Down the drone went, crashing into one of the rocks. Count must have been aware of the kill. "Damn! Gimme a fair chance here, Trigger."

"Two UAVs splashed," Bandog announced. "Take care of the rest."

As Strider 2, the pilot that Naomi had helped out, broke off, Naomi heard him say, "Thanks. I owe you." With that, his plane exited the area, able to fly freely while the drones chased down his wingmen. That must not have been too pleasant. She knew from too much experience that being helpless when something was happening to your friends wasn't a fun feeling.

"All right, good start," Wiseman said, mildly impressed by the display. "Now let's get the remaining six out of there."

The next one that Naomi saw on her radar was hiding in one of the clouds, chasing down an ally who'd flown up in an attempt to shake the drone off. Naomi took a deep breath and pulled her plane up and towards the cloud. A bolt of lightning came down right in front of her and Naomi grunted in surprise and rolled her plane onto its side, flying through the gap between two of the streaks of light just before it vanished. That was a bit too close for her liking.

"Someone just flew into the thunderclouds!" Full Band shouted, his anxiousness affecting his performance.

Naomi emerged from the cloud and dived in pursuit of the UAV. She heard Bandog shout, "Spare 15 has broken through the thunderclouds! Haha! Nice work for a dumbass!" Naomi marked down a personal achievement in her mind: she successfully got Bandog to laugh and give her a compliment. Okay, maybe he did still insult her, but she managed to get something positive from him. Also, she now knew for sure that Bandog wasn't entirely made of stone, so that was good to know. Maybe...

"Trigger just flew into a thundercloud without even blinkin'!" Champ observed, sounding equally as nervous as Full Band did. Naomi grinned, finding some sort of satisfaction in the compliments she was receiving from her wingmen. Seems she was starting to make an impression on them.

She finally got a lock on the UAV and fired two missiles at it. The first one it evaded, but the second one took it out without any trouble. "Strider 4, breaking off!" the pilot announced and turned his plane away from the storm to join Strider 2. Count and Tabloid had just taken care of the UAVs that were pursuing Cyclops 3, so he joined the Strider planes without hesitation.

"These things move pretty good for machines," Count chuckled. "But, they're a little sluggish when it comes down to it."

There were four aircraft left, at least two drones on each one. Naomi, Count, Tabloid, and eventually Full Band all headed to their allies aid, distracting the drones from the aircraft nearest to them. The man that had alerted them to the UAVs arrival radioed his leader, "Wiseman, 444 Squadron support incoming. Sorry, but I'm using this chance to break off."

"Jaeger, you look after the survivors. Keep 'em in line until I get back," Wiseman joked as Jaeger broke off and left the UAVs to Naomi and Count. Both of them simultaneously got a lock on each UAV and fired. Both drones were taken out in the blink of an eye. Wiseman informed them, "Alright, now there's just three more to go. Cyclops 4, look out! Evade that missile!"

Naomi split off from Count to rush to Cyclops 4's aid. The missile narrowly missed the Eagle's wing and Naomi quickly got a lock on the UAV and fired. Bandog announced that its destruction was confirmed. To Naomi's surprise, the voice that came over the radio was a woman's voice. It'd been a while since she'd come across another female pilot, save for Avril, but this one was…friendly. Out of breath, Cyclops 4 sighed and managed a small, "I owe you one." Naomi watched as she flew off to follow Jaeger.

"Cyclops 4 has broken off!" Wiseman announced, sounding encouraging to both his own squadron and to Spare. "There you go! Things are looking up now that we've finally got some good guys in support!"

"Looks like there's a few guys that have got everyone's backs," Jaeger said.

Naomi smiled and circled around to move on to the next target. She was suddenly thrown off course when something hit her wing. It was sharp and there was a loud thud. The world around her shook and her HUD began to malfunction. By the time she'd regained herself, she had to pull up from the ground and swerve through the rocks to avoid crashing. Instinctively, she craned her neck and turned around to get a look at her wing and make sure it was still there. It was there and it didn't seem like any damage had been done to it. "Shit! What the hell was that?!"

"You were struck by lightning," Tabloid answered.

"Hey, Trigger, are you alright?" Count asked before Tabloid could. When did he start acting so concerned about her?

"Yeah, I'm fine, but everything's acting all weird," Naomi said, checking over her radar and HUD.

"Calm down and keep checking your HUD for errors, Trigger," Bandog instructed her sternly. "You'll make it if you don't panic. Now stop scratching your asses and approach the enemy!"

Naomi sighed and steadied her plane, pulling out of the rocks and getting a visual on Cyclops 2 and Wiseman. Both of them were being pursued by the enemy. Count moved to assist Cyclops 2 while Naomi and Tabloid went after the UAVs on Wiseman's tail. Count took care of Cyclops 3 and allowed him to break off, leaving only Wiseman. "Cyclops 2 has broken off," Wiseman announced. "All my guys managed to escape. Got big gratitude for you."

"Cyclops 1, check your six!" Cyclops 4 suddenly called out and Naomi saw the drone fire at Wiseman, forcing him to take evasive actions. Naomi and the others were struggling with the drones on Wiseman's tail, since they were proving themselves to be especially stubborn. Wiseman managed to shake off its lock

"Hey, what's with the 444th? They're all over the place!" Strider 4 commented, and Naomi felt surprisingly defensive. Maybe it was only over herself, or maybe it was Count, Tabloid, and Full Band as well. At least they were at least trying to work together. It wasn't their fault that the others didn't know how to act like a regular squadron.

"Yeah…hell, they don't even have a formation," Cyclops 4 pointed out. "They're gonna get themselves killed like that."

Naomi shot past her three wingmen to take on the two drones on her own. She got a lock on the first and fired. It hit and the drone went down. Tabloid and Count got a lock on the last one, but both of their missiles were dodged. Naomi decided to just gun it down, moving in close so that she was in range. It was tricky, but with Wiseman helping her corral the drone into a vulnerable spot, she managed to use the machine gun and take it out. With that, Wiseman broke away and joined the rest of his squadron.

"Cyclops 1 has broken off," Bandog announced. "He could have broken off anytime if he was by himself."

"Any more surprises for us?" Naomi asked as she led the way to regroup with the rest of the squadron. The thunderstorm continued, but now she no longer had to fly into it.

"Spare 15, all UAVs in the vicinity have been destroyed," Bandog replied. "Once again, I know I'll regret saying this, but the four of you did one hell of a job out there."

"Nice teamwork! Thanks!" Wiseman laughed. "Hey, who was it that got those last two drones? Tell him I'm grateful!"

"Copy that, Cyclops 1," Bandog said cheerfully. Naomi noticed that he didn't correct Wiseman and point out that she was a woman, but she didn't see any reason to butt in and Bandog didn't give her a chance to do it. "Spare Squadron, the mission is finally complete. Return to base." Everyone adjusted and headed back in the direction they entered the valley from, tired and ready to go home. Naomi's radar suddenly showed several bogeys fast approaching and at the same moment Bandog said, "Wait a minute, something's not right. Hold it!"

"Oh, gimme a break!" Champ groaned. He had taken up the rear and had been quiet during the whole battle with the drones. "You have more chores for us?" Naomi looked at her radar. Whoever or whatever was on radar was coming in fast, and it was heading straight for Champ. Apparently, he'd only just noticed, since he broke off and began to fly towards it. Was he_ that_ stupid?

"Spare 8! Champ! Bogey approaching fast from the rear!" Bandog warned him. The panic set in when they all realized that something was about to go seriously wrong. "All available units, support Spare 8!" Naomi was the first to respond, getting a visual on the approaching aircraft. Champ was heading straight for them.

"I don't need any support!" Champ insisted, his voice changing to an over-excited growl. "This is all mine!" Naomi watched as, in an instant, the lead aircraft managed to get on his tail. "Dammit, he's glued to my tail!" he spat as he began to lead the enemy down to the rocks. Naomi followed him, but they were moving at a surprising pace. She caught a glimpse of the plane chasing Champ down. _Orange wingtips…matching every move…toying with him…shit_. This was him. It had to be. This was the pilot that killed Brownie. Champ started to panic like Brownie had. "He's still not firing! I don't get it! Whatever, I ain't afraid of it!"

"Champ!" Naomi cried out, although she knew he wasn't going to listen to her. Champ wasn't going to make it out of this. Not if he didn't disengage. "Champ, get the hell out of there! _NOW_!" She couldn't do anything but shout at him like Knocker had shouted at Brownie. Like they all had shouted at Brownie. It was no use. Champ was hardheaded just like Brownie…he wasn't going to let up.

"Spare 8, no dogfighting!" Bandog ordered.

"Negative! I'm not lettin' this slide!" Champ growled. He'd apparently grown tired of the chase and the second he discovered an opportunity, he took it. He performed a tricky maneuver, one that Naomi didn't think was even possible with his plane, and shot backwards, over the top of the enemy plane. "WOOOHOOO!" He was behind him, he had missile lock, but before he could fire the enemy aircraft pulled up and came down towards his plane. There was a massive explosion that was drowned out by the thunderstorm. Had they collided in midair?

Naomi tensed as she saw a plane emerge from the smoke. It wasn't Champ's. _That sick bastard_. She and the rest of Spare all regrouped above the clouds, trying to process what was going on. "He shot down Champ!" Full Band cried out, the first to come back to his senses. "He was toying with him!" The enemy plane suddenly shot up from the clouds, fired two missiles, one of which nearly hit Full Band. He dodged, but another member of Spare Squadron was hit and crashed into the rocks.

"Spare 10 lost! Another one…" Bandog informed them, something similar to sadness in his voice. It was probably more like disappointment if anything. Wasn't it? Naomi saw another explosion. "One recon aircraft lost! Shit! What's with this guy? That's an Su-30!" He took a deep breath, "All Spare Squadron aircraft, provide support for Cyclops and Strider! Keep the bandit off of them!" Naomi was trembling, trying to think of what to do next. She was numb. What was happening? Bandog's voice snapped her out of her trance, "Get in there with that monster, Spare 15! We're gonna lose more friendlies!"

Shaking herself free, the numbness was suddenly replaced by anger. Without a second thought, she performed a sharp turn and took off after the enemy ace. He wasn't getting away this time. His wingman moved to pursue Naomi, while the rest of her squadron tried to figure out what to do. As expected, the majority of them moved to retreat. "Well, you told us our jobs were done," one of them reasoned, in a ridiculously cheery tone. "I'm going home." Naomi wasn't paying much attention to who was staying and who was leaving, but most of them seemed to be retreating.

"Why are some of 444's craft flying out of bounds?" Wiseman demanded.

"Are those damn cowards bailing on us?!" Cyclops 4 shouted, although the insults wouldn't have made any difference.

"I just sent back the damaged craft craft," Bandog lied, and surprisingly well. "We only need guys we can use." Naomi continued to tangle with the enemy ace as both tried to get a lock on the other. If she was going down then she was putting up a fight. She'd get a couple of hits on that bastard before she'd call it quits. "Spare 11, Spare 6, form an element and take up the rear! Spare 2, keep an eye on the recon aircraft!"

"Forget it!" Tabloid snapped. That was unexpected. Naomi's missile warning blared in her ear and brought her back into the present, not giving her time to linger on Tabloid's sudden stubbornness.

"Trigger's taking the beast head on!" Bandog snarled. "You three deal with the support!"

"So, this is where Tabloid bows out," Full Band sneered as he engaged one of the Erusean fighters. "I guess you're not as brave as we thought you were. Just like Champ."

"Shit!" Tabloid spat, not pleased by the comparison that Full Band had made. To Bandog, he finally said, "Roger that…will do…" and complied with the order.

"Well, you morons stay here and die if you want," Count snapped as he pulled away from his squadron mates and started to head back home. "I'm getting out of here."

"Same here," Full Band said smoothly. "I ain't got a death wish."

Naomi was trying to concentrate on the enemy as he lured her between the rocks, but Count bailing out again suddenly made her find her voice. She was pissed off at just about everyone right now and she was getting tired of playing tag with the enemy. Count wasn't helping any. She expected Full Band to retreat, but Count was just starting to act like less of an ass and now he just ruined that. "GODDAMMIT, YOU COWARD!" Naomi yelled at him, grunting as she dodged one of the larger rock formations, now fighting the wind rather than allowing it to guide her. Count didn't respond, and Naomi was starting to drown everything around her out.

Lightning hit her plane again, but she kept after the ace. She was watching him, studying how he moved and reacted, and she had a pretty good feeling that he was doing the exact same thing to her. He tried to lose her in the clouds, then sneak up on her, but Naomi's reactions were quick. He took her through the rocks once again. The scenery flashed by, nothing more than colorful blurs that were getting in the way. She got a lock. Finally. A long, solid tone. She pulled the trigger. One missile shot right past him, but the second one hit. His plane wobbled for a moment before he recovered and pulled up to try and take her out the same way he'd done Champ.

_Not so fast, you son of a bitch_. She heard the missile warning in her ear and flew straight for one of the rock formations. At the last second, she released her flares and pulled up, twisting the plane in the air and leveling out, diving into the valley to pursue him once more. Another missile lock, but if she fired then she'd waste the shot. They both rounded a turn and Naomi saw a chance. She took it, firing one missile at a time. _This one's for Champ_. The missile struck. _And this one's for Brownie_. It hit his wing, but he was still flying.

"Nice! Bandit's been hit! Spare 15 got him!" she heard Bandog. It was faint, though, almost like a whisper to her. Mostly she could only hear the blood pumping in her ears. She got another lock. She fired two missiles. Both missed. _Shit_. To her surprise, Bandog was egging her on, "You've nearly finished him off. Stay focused, Trigger, you've got this."

"Wiseman, do you see that color…the way he's flying?" Jaeger asked. Naomi could barely hear him over her altitude warning as she dived for the ground. She seemed to have the upper hand for the most part, after all, he was the one with the target on his back now.

"It's Mr. X for sure," Wiseman replied. They had a name for him? That information would have come in handy a while ago. Then they'd have some idea of exactly what they were up against.

"Wiseman, we don't wanna mess with this guy!" Cyclops 4 called out. "It's clear by the way he flies…he's way outta my league…"

Naomi kept firing missiles at him every chance she got. For now, she was holding her own against him, but her eyes were starting to dry from her not blinking for so long. It was just her and this Mr. X guy. "He's exactly the man we didn't want to run into," Wiseman said with a sigh. "Jaeger, if it comes down to it we'll act as a shield. Just get my guys out of here!"

"Understood," Jaeger replied.

Mr. X managed to get behind her and the missile warning started to blare in her ear again. Naomi pulled into a hard turn, hitting the break to slow her plane. Once she was behind him again, she hit the throttle and fired two missiles the second she got radar lock. They both hit. How many hits could this guy handle? His plane wavered again and now his wing was trailing smoke, but he stayed in the fight. She had to give it to him, he was relentless.

"These guys don't miss an opening! Like a goddamn flying wizard! Argh!" Tabloid grunted as he evaded a missile from one of Mr. X's wingmen. He must have had his hands full with them that whole time.

"Wait, so you're telling me there's only two craft taking on the orange guy?" Cyclops 4 suddenly said.

"No…" Jaeger muttered. "Just one's taking him on…" If he said anything else, the missile warning in her ear refused to shut up and she couldn't hear it.

"No way…I wouldn't last a minute!" Cyclops 4 gasped.

"Húxiān, do not engage!" Jaeger ordered Cyclops 4. "If he comes close, just run!"

"Copy that…was gonna do that anyways," Húxiān replied, starting to sound as tired as Naomi felt.

Naomi grunted and narrowly avoided the missile fired by Mr. X. She kept trying to get a lock, but now he was refusing to give her the chance. He'd figured it out and he knew he'd taken enough damage. He got behind her again and fired. Naomi rolled to evade it, but it hit her anyways. Her plane shook from the impact, but a quick assessment told her that she was fine. It was taken in a non critical area. She could still fly. She tried to maneuver around the rocks to get behind him again, but by the time she did Mr. X had started to fly towards the clouds.

She followed him and got one last hit on him, but he soon vanished from radar and she knew she'd ice up if she stayed in the clouds for too long. "Dammit! The bastard got away!" Naomi growled, emerging from the cloud to rejoin Tabloid. To her surprise, Count was there too. They just drove off Mr. X's support planes, and they were waiting for her as she formed up beside them.

"Bandit is retreating…he managed to survive somehow…" Bandog's voice was filled with frustration and disappointment. Naomi felt the exact same, cursing herself for not finishing the job. She took a look around. Most of the squadron had survived the ordeal. That was the goal. Maybe it wasn't so bad.

"Trigger! Kindness gets you killed," Count suddenly sneered.

She said the first thing that came to mind, albeit in a more aggressive tone than she had intended, "Then why did you come back?" Count didn't reply. Why? That was the big question it would seem. That and 'how' were pretty valid.

"Hey Guard Dog," Wiseman called out to Bandog. "Who's the guy who worked his ass off at the rear?"

"_She's_ the biggest dumbass in the unit," Bandog chuckled in response. Naomi was too drained emotionally to even bother saying anything. At this point she was running on her own personal auto-pilot.

"Makes sense," Wiseman said with a laugh. "Only an idiot would be brave enough to pull off those moves." Naomi did feel a little better after hearing Wiseman sound so impressed. It was nice to know that he'd made it through the ordeal. She wasn't sure how many Mr. X and his crew took out while she was fighting him.

The storm was finally starting to let up. Count withdrew and started to catch up to the others while Naomi and Tabloid flew alongside the recon team. "I'll guide you back to Air Force Base 444, though I doubt you'll have enough gas to make it," Bandog said. _Ever the optimist_.

"Well, we appreciate the help," Wiseman chirped. After a pause, he carefully asked, "That pilot…will she be at the base?"

"There might actually be a little trouble when we return," Bandog admitted as they all started along the return route. "I wouldn't get involved if I were you."

Just what they needed. Naomi was exhausted and she knew that McKinsey was probably going to find some reason to throw them in solitary even if they did the best they could. She got one good thing out of that day, though. She knew who her enemy was. Rather, she then decided who her enemy was. _I hope we meet again, Mr. X…next time you won't be so lucky. I now name you my enemy_.

* * *

Author's Note: _The title of this chapter is inspired by lyrics from the song Dear Wormwood by The Oh Hellos. The song reminds me a lot of Trigger and Mihaly's rivalry and it's a beautiful song, so I highly recommend giving it a listen!_


	13. Lesson Learned

Chapter Twelve: Lesson Learned

|…|…|…|

**Yinshi Valley, Usea.**  
_**July 12th, 2019.**_  
**1600hrs.**

|…|…|…|

"They've got two rearguard. The better one's mine." Mihaly addressed Wit and Seymour, Sol 2 and Sol 3 respectively, making it clear that the F-2 sporting three white lines across its tail was his and his alone to fight. The F-15 and the Hornet he'd briefly tangled with suffered the same fate as the Fulcrum from just a few minutes prior and he was hoping that the rest of the Osean aircraft might put up more of a fight than their allies had.

"Copy that, King," Wit replied. Mihaly instantly felt himself growing irritated by not only the cheery undertone that his wingman's voice had, but the fact that he felt the need to call him by that ridiculous name. Where had that 'King' moniker even come from? Wit and the others barely knew the tale of the fall of their homeland, and Mihaly never cared to relive the story and remind the new generation of a time they'd never get to see. What was the point in longing for something so superficial as a country. There was no point living in the past.

Not pleased by the response, he made sure that his words left no room for any loopholes. "Don't call me that." Each word was low and to the point. Neither Wit nor Seymour found the words to reply, although he could imagine the sheepish look on Wit's face. Wit and Roald were the ones that were always so insistent on doing and saying everything right. They reminded Mihaly of another student of his, long ago. One that he often had to knock down a peg. In the end he became an accomplished pilot and leader. Wit showed the same promise, in spite of his faults.

The storm raging on outside didn't seem to affect the performance of the Osean aircraft and their pilots. Many of them left the operation area following the destruction of their comrade, but the remaining F-15s and two planes bearing the white lines remained in the AO. The pilot of the F-2 seemed unaffected by the weather, heading for Mihaly with little hesitation. Mihaly couldn't help but smile as the plane approached. The unfamiliar warning in his ear indicated that the enemy had a lock. Mihaly evaded and decided to have some fun with his challenger.

The F-2 pulled a sharp turn and followed Mihaly down into the rocks. Mihaly was aware that this pilot was firing every time he got a lock on him, and each time Mihaly simply adjusted his path and the missile slammed into a rock. _He's better than I expected_, Mihaly thought, gritting his teeth and grunting from the force of a high G turn as he flew out from the confinement of the valley in an attempt to get behind the F-2. He got the attention of the enemy pilot and allowed him to take the chase into the clouds. _He's good…like the pilot with two lines on his tail from before. Today is your test. We'll see if you're good enough to survive_.

"Sol 1, what's your status?" Wit suddenly asked, his voice laced with concern. They must have lost visual when they started fighting with the other pilots.

"My status?" Mihaly couldn't hold back a dark chuckle as he glanced behind him to check the position of the F-2. A bolt of lightning hit it, but it was fast to recover and refused to give in. "Well, I'm feeling a little excited…" With that, he led the Osean pilot back through the rocks. It wasn't his usual method of toying with the enemy before he took them out, but it was enough to give him the information he wanted. It seemed he'd finally found his rival, someone who could hold their own against him. He heard a missile warning. One shot past him and he felt his aircraft suddenly shake as the enemy pilot fired again. "Impressive…but, let's see what else you can handle..."

Mihaly quickly recovered and pulled up to perform a maneuver similar to the one he tried with the last pilot that tried to chase him through the rocks. The Osean reacted faster than he'd expected, having apparently learned from his wingman's demise. Mihaly craned his neck and looked behind him as he continued through the valley, just in time to see the F-2 level out and continue its pursuit. "Those three lines…" he mused out loud, hearing the missile lock warning but ignoring it. The pilot didn't fire. "What do they signify?"

Another missile warning. Mihaly adjusted his plane and took the first one in a non critical area. It wasn't a direct hit and did little more than scratch the paint. The second one hit his wing. Mihaly grunted as he pulled a high G turn to get out of the valley and behind him once more. "Warning! Warning!" a robotic female voice yelled in his ear. "Over G! Over G!" He got a lock and fired a missile, ignoring the warning, grunting in mild discomfort from the turns. The missile didn't connect and once again he was in the crosshairs. _Dammit..._Two more missiles hit. Now his wing was starting to trail smoke. "Warning! Systems malfunction! Warning!"

He wasn't giving up that easily. Mihaly ignored how tired he felt himself becoming and managed to get on the F-2's tail. He fired a missile after waiting for the perfect shot and the Osean began to roll to evade. The foolish move did little to help and the missile struck its target anyways. "Target has been hit," Mihaly announced to his wingmen, studying the enemy plane for a few moments. He had a lock. He could finish him off right then and there. But he didn't want to.

"Is he down?" Wit asked hesitantly, occupied with a second Osean aircraft that had jumped into the fray. An Su-33 with only one line on his tail. Wit and the other Osean pilot seemed to match one another move for move, but Wit didn't sound at all fazed by the small game of chase they had going on.

Mihaly turned his attention back to the F-2 as it pulled up from the ground and its pilot undoubtedly began to go over his remaining options. "No…" Mihaly muttered and started to pursue again. "He took it in a non-critical area. I'll teach you how to do that when we get back." He wanted to keep the fight going, but with the weather worsening he knew it wouldn't last much longer. He'd had a taste of what it meant to have a real challenge and he wanted more. This Osean pilot showed promise.

"Sol 1—" Wit began, but Mihaly cut him off.

"My status is fine!" he snapped, not pleased by his thoughts being interrupted. "Do _not_ interfere!"

"General…the clouds are moving in," Wit added nervously after a pause, barely taken aback by how harsh Mihaly's order had sounded. "I think we should head back."

Mihaly thought for a moment, looking towards the dark thunderclouds that were approaching. "Affirmative." He broke off from his pursuit and began to climb, into the clouds to shake off the F-2 that moved to continue their chase. By the time he'd catch up, Mihaly would be gone. Sol Squadron formed up, leaving behind the Osean forces. Positive that they weren't being followed, they adjusted their course to return to the EASA base. "Wit, Seymour, when we get back I have a few things to teach you. I want you both to get Roald and Hermann together when we get back. I need to speak with Dr. Schroeder when we return."

His wingmen muttered in reply and Mihaly began to wonder how he could find out more about the pilot with the three lines. The flying style looked familiar to him, but it was also…different in a way. He couldn't quite understand it or put his finger on it. He needed to know more in case he ever encountered this pilot again. Perhaps it was an ace from a previous war that he'd fought without realizing it? One that he hadn't faced in combat but heard stories of long ago, perhaps. No, it couldn't be. He'd recognize them in an instant.

Regardless, Mihaly knew that he had some research to do. And he also had a request for Schroeder to design a stronger flight suit for him. Once again, the suit wasn't holding up and Mihaly needed to be in top condition if Erusea was expected to win the war. Suit or no suit he wasn't going to be of any use to them unless he was able to fly the way he used to be able to. His body was failing him and if he couldn't fly then he was nothing. He was staying in the air, any risks be damned. And now he had even more reason to fight and want to stay in the air.

The pilot with three scratches got off easy this time. Mihaly wanted to savor however much longer he would have with his new opponent, curious to see if the war would destroy both of them before they got a chance to meet again.

* * *

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**July 12th, 2019.**_  
**1800hrs.**

Only four members of the recon team managed to survive the encounter in the valley, and there wasn't any doubt in Naomi's mind that she and Tabloid would still be taking the heat for it. It probably wouldn't be too bad. McKinsey would probably be acting as nice as possible to show off for the regular forces. Either that, or he'd just throw them in solitary with some bullshit excuse about them disobeying. Worst case scenario, Wiseman was just as hostile towards the prisoners as McKinsey was. He didn't strike her as that type of person, though.

By the time she and Tabloid were allowed to land, Naomi was starting to feel like she was suffocating in the cockpit. She had enough air, but she felt like she was trapped. _Like drowning_. Tabloid let her land first, then he followed. They taxied to the edge of the runway, guided in by one of the guards that also worked with the ground crew. They brought their planes to a halt side by side in front of the hangar that housed their aircraft.

Count seemed to have landed only a short while before them, since Naomi spotted him looking over his plane while he took off his flight gear. Cyclops Squadron and the only remaining member of Strider were just now climbing out of their own planes. Naomi sighed and just watched them, moving at a lethargic pace as she unstrapped herself and climbed out of the cockpit. At least the mission hadn't been a complete failure and most of their allies made it back.

At first she expected the heat to be a nice change from the cold of the cockpit, but as soon as her feet hit the ground she knew she'd rather be stuck in her cockpit again. Her back and shoulders were burning, same with her lungs, and she'd hit an emotional rock bottom. The heat and sweat that began to form made matters worse. Her adrenaline from the dogfight was fading and it was fading fast. She was lightheaded and in pain and she desperately wanted to just drop dead right there. Perhaps the heat was making her a little dramatic, but the closure from Brownie's death that she wanted and expected from facing Mr. X wasn't there and it made her feel even worse than she had when Brownie had died.

Shaking, Naomi staggered into the hangar for some relief from the sun, unbuckling her harness with one hand and holding her helmet with the other. Once she was inside, she slowly took off the heavy flight gear and weakly threw it down. It hit the smooth, filthy hangar floor with a loud _clunk_ and her helmet followed suit. From there, she made her way to the nearest box and sat down, ignoring everything around her as she bowed her head and cradled it in her hands. It was a pathetic sight for sure, but the only thing she knew what to do.

She was barely aware of footsteps approaching and she flinched as she heard her flight gear fall to the ground at her feet. Wearily she lifted her head, looking first at the flight gear at her feet and then at the two men standing in front of her. At first, Naomi was expecting the guards to be standing there, upset with her for leaving her gear lying around. It was almost a pleasant surprise to find Tabloid and Count standing over her instead. Unfortunately, she didn't really want to talk to them. Or anyone. Without a word, unable to look either of them in the eyes, she bowed her head again and looked at her feet.

"Where I grew up they always taught us to pick up after ourselves," Count said with a sigh in his usual condescending tone. "You know and to not leave our shit for everyone else to deal with."

"C'mon, Count, ease up on her a little," Tabloid said in a serious tone. "She pulled her weight out there today, which is more than we can say for you." Naomi didn't look up, but she could imagine the irritated look on Count's face.

"Whatever." Count huffed, then he reached forward and gave Naomi a firm shove on her shoulder. She gritted her teeth in pain, his touch making the pain and soreness even worse. "Pull yourself together, Trigger. We just got word from Bandog. McKinsey's expecting us for a debriefing and it sounds like he's pissed. I think we're all spending the night in solitary. _Again_…" Both of them noticed her lack of a reaction. Count frowned and he looked something close to concerned. "Hey, Trigger…you don't look so good. Are you feeling alright?"

Naomi shook her head. "No." She sighed, then slowly rose to her feet, kicking aside her flight gear. She'd pick it up later. Beginning to stagger away, Naomi started towards HQ, pressing her hand to her forehead. When Tabloid and Count hesitated, she stopped and looked back at them. At first, she just stared at them, not knowing how to respond. They'd just wasted her time, getting her up and about when she wasn't ready, and now they weren't coming? Naomi guessed it was just some problem with who they took orders from. Of course Count wouldn't follow her, but Tabloid was a different story. Slowly, she asked, "Don't you two wanna get this over with?"

Tabloid and Count exchanged a look. It was Tabloid that replied, "Trigger, maybe you should go back to your cell and lay down before you throw up or fall over or something." Naomi blinked, unsure what to do with this new advice. Did she want to? Yes. Then she could just go to sleep and forget about the whole day. Did she want the extra long trip to solitary that would follow? No. Tabloid went on, "We could just tell the guards you were sick. McKinsey won't let 'em near us if they think we've got something contagious. One guy got a cold about a month back and they didn't touch him until he stopped sniffling."

"I just…I just need to get out of the heat," Naomi answered, going through all the possible solutions in her head. It wasn't the first thing on her mind in that moment. In fact, she could barely think at all. "Just let me sit down in HQ and then I'll get some water and everything…everything will — _should_ — be fine after that…right?" She looked at them for a moment and began to walk away again, trying to keep herself steady. "Look, I can't rest…I'm still on edge, so let's just go and get this debriefing done with before McKinsey sends someone after us.

Count and Tabloid eventually followed her, and at the slow pace she was walking it wasn't difficult for them to catch up to her. "You look like shit, Trigger," Count said to her as they approached HQ. Something close to concern was in his voice. "And the whole way back from Yinshi you didn't say a word. It's that Mr. X guy, isn't it? You've dealt with him before?" Naomi ignored him, not responding. The lack of a reaction caused Count to put a hand on her shoulder to stop her and quickly step in front of her and Tabloid. "And how the hell were you keeping up with him?"

Naomi looked at him for a moment, neither one of them moving. She wasn't sure if she was even breathing…actually, since her lungs weren't burning at the moment, she was pretty sure she was holding her breath. At first, she debated telling him, but her eyes flicked to the guards waiting by the door and she said in a low voice, "Forget about it, Count. I got lucky." She told him what she assumed he wanted to hear all along: a confession that she wasn't actually skilled, that it was 'beginner's luck' and that was that. Neither Count nor Tabloid looked satisfied with the answer. Flustered, in pain, and growing more frustrated by the moment, Naomi pushed past Count and started towards the building again.

She continued to slowly lead the way into the main building, sighing with relief as the door slammed shut behind them and left nothing but cold air. It didn't help much for her nausea, and it didn't do much good for the pain in her shoulders either, but the lightheadedness and headache got slightly more tolerable than they were before. Naomi also welcomed the change in lighting and how much dimmer it was inside compared to the sun outside. The LEDs may be a little harsh under normal circumstances and back at Fort Grays or in Osea she would have complained they made the headache worse, but they had little effect here and the only complaint she had was the faint buzzing sound from them.

When they reached the briefing room, the guards looked at them with contempt as they entered the room, slamming the door shut behind them. The seats at the front that the three of them usually occupied were filled by the remainder of Cyclops and the one surviving member of Strider Squadron, forcing them to find other seats behind that row. The second Naomi sat down again, in the air conditioning and darkness of the room, she felt much better physically. Able to close her eyes and relax her shoulders, most of the soreness began to ebb away and she finally relaxed her breathing. _Who knew these chairs would _ever_ feel this comfortable?_

After a short wait and little conversation among the convicts, McKinsey finally stepped into the room with Bandog right behind him, clearing his throat as he entered. Naomi immediately opened her eyes and tensed up again, turning her attention to the commander and the screen displaying the same 3D map of Yinshi Valley from before. Full Band chuckled as the commander took his place at the front of the room. "Well, I suppose you're here to congratulate us on a job well done," he said confidently and Naomi had a feeling he had a skewed idea of a 'job well done'. "After all, the destruction of the anti-aircraft weaponry and escort through the valley was a success."

McKinsey glared at him. "You returned without permission and all of you failed as escorts," he said coldly. Naomi had a pretty good idea of what he was going to say next. "So how about you rethink your value while in solitary? Take them away."

The guards closed in on Full Band first, and for a moment Naomi thought that she and Count and Tabloid would finally get recognized for the work they did. Sure, Count had only come back towards the end of the fight, but she still didn't think it was fair that he would go to. When the guards grabbed her by the arm to pull her up and she felt the pain in her shoulder come back, she reacted out of fear and pain and instinctively pulled away, making the pain worse. She gritted her teeth and finally gave in. It wasn't fair. She felt like a child saying that, but it wasn't fair that they got sent to solitary anyways without even a second look.

"Uh…sir…about those three..." Bandog spoke up hesitantly before they reached the door. The guards stopped as McKinsey held up his hand and they all looked to Bandog, even the recon team, who were wearing startled expressions as the convicts around them were hauled away. Bandog looked around nervously, then cleared his throat and straightened up. "Sir, Trigger and Tabloid stayed and fought. Count was…hesitant to engage, but he came back to assist Tabloid. They did the work they were supposed to, unlike the idiots that ran away."

McKinsey narrowed his eyes on the three of them, suspicious. "Is that so?"

Wiseman stepped forward, giving a friendly smile. "Commander McKinsey, if I may?" Everyone gave him their attention now.

The commander immediately perked up, his eyes getting a twinkle in them that Naomi didn't like. "Well, well, what do you know," he said in an unusually cheerful tone. "Some _real_ pilots made it back to base alive." He turned to Bandog. "Make sure that the guards know to treat them well and feed them plenty. After all, I don't want the higher-ups to think of us as just a worthless penal unit, do we now? Gotta get a good report from you! Haha!" Naomi, Count, and Tabloid all groaned and shared the same 'yeah right' look. Even a few of the recon team looked suspicious of his awful attempt at a joke.

"You know, we don't need you to suck up to us and give us special treatment," the only female pilot, Húxiān, said in an irritated tone. Wiseman and an older fellow that Naomi assumed was Jaeger gave their younger wingman a stern look. She frowned and crossed her arms, adding with a look of disgust, "With all due respect..." Jaeger cleared his throat. Húxiān sighed. "…_sir_." Naomi bit back a laugh as she saw McKinsey's annoyed expression and just barely caught a smile on Bandog's face. The last pilot from Cyclops, a guy they called Fencer, was covering his mouth with his hand to hide his grin and snickering.

McKinsey narrowed his eyes on Wiseman. "Listen, Captain, I appreciate you trying to cover for my men. However, I hardly believe it necessary," he said, forcing a straight face and level tone. His eyes flicked towards Naomi and Count. "Neither of them know how to look out for anybody but themselves. Now, Tabloid I might be inclined to believe was lending a hand. Count and Trigger on the other hand…not so much. Especially Trigger. She's a killer, not a protector."

Naomi groaned and looked down at the floor, avoiding Wiseman's stern, calculating gaze. She looked up when she heard him speak up again, perfectly pleasant and levelheaded. "Let me correct you on a couple of things, sir. It's Major, not Captain. I got promoted last August. Second, I've got no reason to lie for them. They helped us out of that shit storm. We may have lost a couple of pilots, but I wouldn't be here talking to you if it wasn't for them." He smiled and looked back at them, ignoring the shocked expressions all three of them were wearing. "And if that doesn't convince you, well…I'm sure HQ would love to hear an update on this place. I gotta say, not too impressed by the rats."

"Or the fleas," Húxiān added.

"Or the cockroaches," Jaeger put in with a grin.

"And were some of those dogs foaming at the mouth, ya think?" Fencer asked, furrowing his brow as if trying to recall the details. "A little rabid if you ask me." Naomi, Count, and Tabloid all looked back and forth as the recon team murmured in agreement. Bandog was fighting back a smile, Tabloid was grinning from ear to ear, Count looked confused, and McKinsey had clearly realized they had him backed into a corner. Naomi forgot about her discomfort, too caught up in the moment and seeing McKinsey get a taste of what being treated like shit was.

Wiseman turned back to him. "So far, it ain't lookin' too good for you, commander. As much as I hate to say it. So…what'll it be?"

McKinsey considered his options for a moment, glaring daggers at all of them before he motioned for the guards to let them go. "Very well, then," he muttered and turned to shut off the computer and projector. "The three of you are avoiding solitary. For now. I need a chance to look over the reports from the battle. Until then, your food privileges are revoked and you're helping out in the hangars again."

He looked Naomi over as she started to rub at her shoulder. "And get her some water or something before she throws up. She looks like she's seen a ghost." McKinsey turned around to face Wiseman, still maintaining a friendly demeanor with the flight leader. "As for you, I can arrange for Bandog or one of the other guards to show you around base. Our mechanic will take a look at your planes and tell you how long the repairs should take. We'll have you back on your feet in no time."

As if the previous interaction had never happened, Wiseman reached forward and held out his hand for McKinsey. The older man glanced down and then forced a smile as he took Wiseman's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Appreciate the help," Wiseman said with a grin, glancing at Naomi and the others as he did. "I think we'll head down to the hangars for now. I'd like to take a look at our planes, if that's alright?"

"Whatever you'd like," McKinsey replied calmly. He really _was_ planning on sucking up. "Bandog will go with you. You can head to the mess hall whenever you get hungry and we'll set up some quarters for you, too." He said nothing else, and motioned this time for the guards to turn on the lights and open the doors. Then he left the room and made for his office as if they weren't there, calling to Wiseman over his shoulder, "Just make yourselves comfortable. Unfortunately, you're probably going to be stuck here for a while..."

They all watched him and the remaining guards exit the room before all looking at one another and managing a couple of smiles. Naomi weakly began to laugh. "Damn…I thought we were gonna get screwed over again," she said, sending a grateful look to their allies. "That was amazing! I've never seen McKinsey squirm like that, and honestly, I'd pay to see it again."

"You think you guys could stick around for a while?" Tabloid asked with his usual grin. "Sure would be helpful in a pinch."

"McKinsey would get his way sooner or later, though," Count pointed out pessimistically, crossing his arms and scowling. "It would only last a short while before he started sending us there again. Hell, he'd probably send _them_ there too."

"Well, in any case, thanks for that," Naomi said to Wiseman. She took a step forward and held out her hand. "I guess official introductions are in order. I'm Trigger, the scrawny guy's Tabloid, the guy who looks like he drank a bunch of lemon juice is Count, and you've already met Bandog." She saw Count roll his eyes at her comment about the lemon juice, but he didn't say anything about it.

Wiseman looked them over, then looked to Bandog. "Y'know, you've all got some pretty cool names, but did your parents hate you or something?"

"I can't speak for the others, but no," Bandog replied, glancing over at them. "Around here all that matters is your crimes. Your name and rank all goes away. Unless you're Commander McKinsey, then you get no status. He makes it clear that your real identity practically ceases to exist the second you get transferred here. I think it makes it easier whenever one of them goes down. As far as he's concerned, they're just numbers on a spreadsheet."

Jaeger was the one who spoke up next. "Damn shame right there," he said, offering a friendly smile. "I don't know how the three of you ended up here. From what I saw, you were pretty skilled. And you had everyone's back. We really owe you." Jaeger looked around, then held out his hand for them to shake. "Well, I guess we should return the favor with the introductions. I'm Lieutenant Charles Jaeger."

"Major Paul Wiseman," Wiseman said, holding out his hand as well. "Then we have Lieutenant Dave Winters, or Fencer as you know him at this point, and—"

Húxiān interrupted her commander to introduce herself. "Lieutenant Erika Hirose. Everyone calls me Húxiān, though." Everyone exchanged a few awkward handshakes before they fell into silence. Húxiān glanced towards the door, placing a hand on her hips. At last, she broke the silence, "So, why don't we all head out to the hangar and take a look at our planes. I wanna ask your mechanics how long the repairs are supposed to take."

To Naomi's surprise, it was Bandog who took charge. "Of course, Lieutenant," he said, brushing Count and Tabloid aside to reach the door. He opened it and gestured for Húxiān to step through. She regarded him with a confused and mildly annoyed look and Naomi thought she saw an almost embarrassed look on Bandog's face. Húxiān exited the briefing room and waited for the others in the hallway. Bandog looked towards Naomi, "You lead the way."

As Naomi passed Bandog, she grinned and lowered her voice, "You wouldn't happen to have taken a liking to Lieutenant Hirose, would you?"

"Shut up and escort our guests, Trigger," Bandog groaned, neither confirming nor denying her question. "As if you've never met a gentleman in your life." He glanced at Count and Tabloid, then smirked. "Actually, with the people you hang around, it doesn't surprise me that you wouldn't know what to look for."

"Ass," Naomi muttered with a laugh, stepping out into the hallway. She made slow and deliberate movements, still tired and achy. Just as Bandog instructed, she led the way out of the main building, trying to strike up a conversation with Húxiān. "So…Húxiān...you're the only female pilot in your squadron, aren't you?" Her new friend gave her a quizzical look. "Hey, just trying to get to know you. The only other girl we have around here…well, let's just say that she's still warming up to me. Doesn't trust me yet, I don't think."

Húxiān shrugged. "I'm actually the only female pilot in the unit," she replied. "It took the guys about a year to get comfortable around me and around the same time for me to get to trust them. Wiseman's been amazing the whole time I've been under his wing, though." There was the faintest hint of a smile on her lips as she added, "Of course, sometimes it takes meeting a dick like McKinsey to get to fully appreciate how lucky we were to get him as a leader."

"It seems like he looks out for other people," Naomi commented, glancing back at where Wiseman and Jaeger were speaking with Tabloid and Bandog. Fencer joined in, leaving Count to take up the back with a bitter look. "I'm amazed he stuck up for any of us. He didn't have to."

"You earned our trust today," Húxiān pointed out. "It may seem a little odd and your commander might not think you deserve it, but…I don't know." She looked around as they stepped outside, and Naomi quickly took note of all the guards. They were probably making the guests feel a little unwelcome. McKinsey would be furious if he knew that. Húxiān cleared her throat and went on, "You've got some ridiculous skills in any case. Where the hell did you learn to fly like that? I've never seen anyone last as long as you did against Mr. X. I know I'd never survive."

Naomi wasn't sure how to feel about the comment, so she simply looked to the ground, focusing on the soreness and queasiness she still felt, so she didn't say anything and allowed Húxiān to slow down and talk with Bandog. After a short walk, they finally reached the hangar and Naomi had to take some time to sit by herself. She put away her flight gear while the others began to focus on the planes in the hangar. When she was done with that, she sat down on a crate and unzipped her flight suit, tying the sleeves around her waist.

Wincing, she pushed the strap on her tank top along her shoulder to examine where the harness had been. It was red and a little tender. Apparently the suit could only handle so much and do so much. A soft whistle startled her and she looked up to see Count walking over with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette in his mouth. "That's pretty red. Looks like it hurts," he said, reaching up and removing the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling the smoke. "Looks like Trigger isn't as invincible as everyone seems to think, eh?"

"Count, I'm really not in the mood. I'm tired and in pain, so if you're going to act like an ass, go do it somewhere else, please," Naomi replied, sounding less angry and intimidating than she meant for them to. Count didn't look impressed, staring at her with a raised eyebrow as he took another drag. "Oookaay…could you just…leave?"

Count didn't reply and instead reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the rags they used to wipe the planes down with. Naomi watched as he produced a water bottle and doused the rag with it, tossing it her way. Naomi barely caught it before it hit her face and she gave him a confused look. "Put that on your shoulder where it's sore or red or whatever. I'm no doctor, but it's kinda cold and might help relieve some of the pain." Naomi looked down at the rag suspiciously. It was covered in oil stains, but he was right. It probably would help. "If you want, then I can take it back and you can keep using your pain as an excuse to act like a bitch."

"No…thank you…" Naomi gently pressed the rag onto her shoulder where it was sore. It helped for the most part, so she moved onto the next shoulder. She tried to be friendly to Count, hoping to avoid any arguments with him. "I'm sorry for snapping at you Count. That face-off with Mr. X was just a little…overwhelming."

"I'm actually curious about that," Count said, nodding slowly. He caught the rag as Naomi tossed it back to him and pulled her flight suit back up. "What was your deal out there today. Those maneuvers you were pulling…I'm amazed you aren't in worse condition, y'know."

"I had a debt to settle with Mr. X, that's all," Naomi replied, leaning forward and looking straight ahead, fighting the exhaustion she felt. "He's ruthless…he hunted down a good friend of mine. Killed her. I needed closure."

Count took a seat beside her, a slightly softer expression on his face. "So…did you get what you were after now that you've actually faced him."

Naomi closed her eyes and took a shaky, deep breath. "No…and it's my own fault for not killing the bastard right then and there. He doesn't deserve the mercy I showed him…the mercy that he didn't give my wingman."

Count gave her a firm pat on the back, a surprisingly friendly gesture from him. "Well, it should've come easy to you, after what you did to get sent here." Naomi shot him a dirty look, but she was too drained to say anything back. Count tossed away his cigarette, exhaling the last of the smoke from it. "The guy was an actual ace, Trigger. It's not your fault you couldn't take it down. You should just consider yourself lucky that you made it out alive. From what the others are saying, it seems like this Mr. X is the real shit. Maybe you should consider it a lesson or something."

"I guess you're right, Count," Naomi said. She chuckled. "You know, when you actually put in the effort, you're a lot less of a dick than you normally are."

Count scoffed. "Whatever you say, Trigger." He stood up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. "Now c'mon. That Wiseman dude is gonna tell us about that Mr. X guy so we know what to do in case he shows up again or something like that. I swear, these guys are gonna get themselves killed with these attitudes." Naomi took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. "And wipe the look off of your face. It's depressing."

Naomi found herself smirking as she and Count walked side by side to rejoin the others. "Fine, but only if you stop scowling and looking pissed off at the world."

"I'm not gonna make you any promises."

* * *

**Fort Grays Island, Usea.**  
_**July 13th, 2019.**_  
**0900hrs.**

"What happened to never flying in the skies of battle again?" Pixy asked Kathryn as he accompanied her to the hangars. Clown had invited them to come along so that Pixy and Genette could continue looking into the base commander at Fort Grays and Kathryn and Hans had eagerly asked to come along. In spite of both of them coming up on their thirties, they somehow still managed to act like a kid at Christmas whenever fighter jets and the air force were brought into the conversation. Maybe Kathryn just wanted to live up to her nickname.

"Well, technically that was more of an empty promise," Kathryn answered with a shrug, tugging at the sleeves of her old flight suit. "Grimm and I talked it over with Genette and Chopper. Even Samantha got to put in her own opinion on the subject. We all agreed that this was…an acceptable idea, I guess. I just wanted to get back in the action, really, and this was a perfect opportunity."

Pixy studied her for a moment. Kathryn was, in a way, like a member of his family. She was Cipher's daughter after all, even if she never cared enough to acknowledge it. He could easily tell when she was lying or not telling the whole truth. She did the same thing Cipher did whenever he tried it. She fidgeted. "I find it hard to believe that you just wanted an adrenaline rush," he said calmly. "And I thought that Hans seemed pretty content with domestic life, so I know he wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to fly again."

Kathryn gulped, tugging harder at her sleeves. She hesitated, then let out a long sigh. "Alright, fine." Kathryn stopped walking and glanced around to make sure that no one was nearby before she continued, "I had a long conversation with Clown and Knocker and they told me about the space elevator and…as much detail as they could on Harling's death. You remember one of my other wingmen, Kei Nagase, don't you?"

Pixy nodded. He'd met her in mid 2011, shortly after the Circum-Pacific War. She was shy and thoughtful, but not someone you easily forget. If he recalled correctly, she had some pretty bright ideas on 'world peace'. Normally Pixy didn't go the pacifist route in his beliefs, but it was a fun semi-debate. "Yeah, I remember her. But what does she have to do with anything?"

"The spaceship that Harling launched from the space elevator was piloted by Nagase," Kathryn explained. "And I heard from Knocker that the IUN tried to destroy it during the rescue operation." She looked around again. "I'm not letting them take down the elevator, whoever's planning it. The Eruseans have got to be up to something within the Osean forces, so while you and Genette are looking into it on the ground _I'm_ going to be making sure that this war starts to come to an end in the air. I'm not planning on Harling's death being in vain and my wingman not coming back. I'm going to protect the elevator any way that I can."

"I can understand your reasoning, I suppose…but what if you're wrong about this?" Pixy asked her. He had to look at this from a neutral standpoint, supporting neither countries in their war. Kathryn gave him an odd look, one which said that she didn't know what he meant by that. So, he explained, "The space elevator is the reason this war started, if you think back to what led up to Erusea's declaration. Harling may have realized that the space elevator was built in vain and it's possible he flew at it to destroy it, or at least attempt to damage it. The UAVs and even the IUN might have just been in his way the whole time."

Kathryn bit her lip. She wanted to argue, he could see it on her face, but she held back. "Well, if that's what you want to believe, then I can't change your mind," she replied. "But you didn't know Harling that well. Whatever the reason, his legacy should be protected." Pixy watched as she shifted her weight and glanced around again. "You know, Clown and Grimm are waiting for me back at the hangar and I think Genette was looking for you earlier, so…so I'm gonna go. I don't want to hold up your investigating." Pixy watched as she gave a halfhearted wave goodbye and continued towards the hangars, not bothering to look back at him.

Pixy crossed his arms and sighed as he watched her walk away. He wanted this war to end as much as Kathryn did, mainly so that Naomi could come home again. If that meant that the space elevator needed to come down, then it was coming down one way or another. There were other ways, sure, but Pixy didn't know how well they'd work. So far, establishing a peace treaty had been difficult. OBC had recently done an announcement on the status of the peace negotiations and the Erusean government representatives and the King of Erusea had been rather stubborn, as if they thought that war was the only way to settle any differences.

He thought back to all the wars in the past. Every war had an ace to change the tide of battle, to bring victory to their country and save the world from destruction. It seemed to be expected at this point, with a news story earlier that morning asking the whereabouts of any of the legendary aces. The Demon Lord, Mobius One, The Razgriz, hell, they even mentioned an Emmerian ace from the Anean Continental War. Pixy figured they'd seen enough of war and were content to stay out of it. He knew that was the case for Cipher, and Pixy also considered that his reason as well.

Looking up at the sky, it was a crystal blue, only a few white clouds drifting across it. In the distance, along the horizon, dark clouds were beginning to move in. Pixy chuckled, finding it a little funny that the weather seemed to reflect the overall mood. The calm before the storm, so to speak. It was Usea's rainy season, so it was just a coincidence. A cruel coincidence if you were to ask Pixy.

Shaking his head, he decided to head to the mess hall and see if Genette was there. As he started on his way, he couldn't help but ponder the issue of aces. Would the Razgriz make a rise again, now that Kathryn and Hans were involved with the war, or would yet another unknown ace take on the challenge and bring Osea a victory. Then again, who said that the ace wouldn't be from Erusea. Perhaps Osea actually were the villains in all of this and an Erusean ace would deliver the final blow that would end the war. Or maybe both countries were to blame and the fact that there wasn't an ace or aces to save the day because the universe didn't see fit to provide either country with one.

Whatever the reason, he couldn't help but think that it was wrong for Kathryn to want to be involved in the war at all. Hans was most likely only following her lead, so Pixy didn't really blame him for anything. Hans was one of those fiercely loyal types, especially with Kathryn. They'd been through an entire war together, after all, so there was a mutual trust and respect for one another. If Kathryn thought it was the right choice then Hans might voice his opinion on the whole situation, but he'd go along regardless. In a way, Hans reminded him a little of PJ. Loyal and full of ideals, kinda timid and quiet too. All of that didn't excuse the fact that he and Kathryn shouldn't be getting involved.

He finally reached the mess hall, opening the door to step inside. It was mostly empty, but there were a few people finishing up their meal. Mostly pilots. At a table nearest to the TV on the wall, Genette was sitting with Knocker, a couple of papers and a laptop taking up most — if not all — of the available space on the table. Pixy approached the table and it was Knocker who was the first to notice him. "Lieutenant Foulke…er…Pixy," he said in an awkward greeting. "We were wondering when you'd show up. Genette's pretty damn good at his job."

"At least the investigative part, anyways," Genette put in with a small smile. He looked tired, as if he'd been up all night. He reached forward and typed a couple of things into the computer, then clicked something before turning the laptop around to face Pixy's direction. "Captain Turner helped me out with some access to certain files, but this is some of the info I've got on Colonel Matthews and a few other people so far."

Knocker suddenly chuckled. "Genette, I get you're excited kid, but give the man a chance to sit down and relax first!" he said, and Genette's tired look changed to a sheepish one as he reached to pull the computer back towards him.

"No worries, Genette," Pixy said and took a seat beside him, squinting at the computer screen. "Looks like you've been confirming what we found last month." The computer had a document open, plus a couple of names and a bunch of notes on different people. Colonel Matthews was listed, with screenshots of large sums of money being deposited into a secret bank account. "This is…quite possibly illegal." Pixy couldn't help but point out, looking up at his two 'friends'. "What do you think will happen when Matthews discovers that you've got this?"

"Doesn't matter," Genette answered, then pointing at something in the screenshot. "Check it out. For one, the date on the first transaction is shortly before the IUN's first encounter with the stolen Arsenal Bird, over Chopinburg. Then the next one is just after the rescue mission with Harling failed. And lastly, there were some emails that accompanied the deposits. Written in Erusean and Belkan." Pixy stiffened and narrowed his eyes at the mention of his native language. Genette reached for one of the papers and slid it over to him. "Here's a printout of a brief email conversation in Belkan. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me what it meant."

Pixy took the paper from him and looked it over carefully, his brow furrowing as the conversation went on. "The first email is from someone who isn't a native Belkan. They aren't fluent in the language. It's like they used an online translator for it. You can tell, because some of the sentences are too choppy or the words don't make a lot of sense unless you really think about it. For example, this sentence here…'If that death works for slow war'. I think the person meant to say 'If his death helps slow the war', mainly because it mentions Harling's murder…" His eyes widened as he realized that they were right. Harling's death wasn't Naomi's fault. "Matthews is the one who wrote the first email. The second one mentions that things are going according to plan. Matthews will get a good pay for his work. The third one is Matthews complaining that he had to give up a good pilot…oh shit."

"What's wrong?" Knocker asked. Both he and Genette were wearing matching looks of concern.

"Matthews mentions Naomi by name. Her full name…he tells whoever he's talking to that she's my daughter." Pixy slammed the paper down and glanced around nervously. "Goddammit…Matthews knows she got sent to the 444th. He's told whoever this is that Naomi is related to me. He talks about the similarities in our flying style. Do you have any idea how bad this could be for her?"

"How so?" Genette asked, although Pixy had the feeling that he already had a pretty good idea. "I mean, I get it's bad, but if she's in the penal unit then she's not doing much harm. She wouldn't be a problem for them."

"A lot of Belkans know about me. Especially after that interview I did," Pixy explained. "I fought against my own country, then I tried to nuke the world…so you can understand that a lot of people don't exactly like me." He began to look over the other printouts to see if there was any more information. "Scheisse…Naomi doesn't know about my past. Or her heritage. I wanted her to have a different upbringing than her siblings, so she never found out and she never really gave much thought to it. She thinks I'm only part Belkan, not full blooded."

"Well…who would have the power or motive to take out your kid? Or anyone connected to you?" Knocker asked, the most calm out of the three of them. Pixy was trying to keep his cool, but he was angry and quite frankly scared for his child's wellbeing. "At this point, I'm amazed a lot of people would remember anything that happened back then. Or at least care about it, no offense. It was years ago."

"Umm…well, what was that Belkan group that started the last war…the one that Kathryn and Hans told me about?" Pixy admittedly forgot the name of them. It just wasn't that important to him at the time, since they weren't any threat after the war. Unless they made a comeback somehow.

Genette frowned. "Are you talking about the Grey Men?" he asked and Pixy nodded, recognizing the name. "That's impossible. The Razgriz took them out in the last war and all of the surviving members were arrested. There's no way in hell that they'd recover from that blow. Only like, three or four of them actually survived. They'd need a lot of motivation if they wanted to try and make a comeback. Besides, they were supporters of Belka. If they found out about Naomi, they'd probably try and recruit her rather than kill her. They weren't really one for smarts. Too impulsive for it."

Pixy sighed and relaxed a little. "Well, that doesn't mean _Erusea_ wouldn't kill her. If they think she's my equal in skill or something. Hell, she's probably better at this point, I wouldn't know." He sighed, looking back at the computer screen. "Well…it seems like they've recruited a couple of Belkans. And Oseans, too, by the sound of things. For now, I think we should worry about the Oseans on their payroll. Did you find out anything about that commander McKinsey at the penal base?"

"Yup, and he checks out," Genette replied. "He's a double agent, but he's working for us. He feeds Erusea false information or finds out what their strategy is and informs the Osean forces of the plan. Sometimes it doesn't always work, but for the most part it's doing quite well. He's a massive asshole, though, so I wouldn't be too hopeful about the treatment of his prisoners. Actually, he's pretty pompous. Osea's paying him a lot just to get him to do this. Other than that, he's a suck up to the top brass."

"Alright…I want to get in touch with him," Pixy said, and he was making sure that they knew he wasn't asking for their permission to speak with him. "As soon as you possibly can."

* * *

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
_**July 13th, 2019.**_  
**1200hrs.**

Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise smoothed out the white blouse she'd put on for the day, running her fingers along the faint, stitched flower pattern along the hem. She glanced distastefully at the suit she typically wore. Although at the EASA facility with the intention of doing more business for her father, that didn't mean that she had to dress up too much. Honestly, wearing clothes made out of a fabric that didn't breathe made summers a living hell. But being the perfect daughter and face of the Erusean public meant that she had to endure it.

When she heard her father mention a trip out to the EASA facility to inspect the drone production progress, Rosa had immediately volunteered, arguing that as the King her father needed to stay in Erusea and handle the affairs of their kingdom, speaking with the military officials and whatnot. Rosa had mainly wanted to visit her classmate, Ionela, which her father must have known since he asked one of the generals in their military to accompany her and go over all of the technical information with the scientists.

In any case, until Sunday afternoon, Rosa was free of many royal responsibilities. For once, her guards were keeping their distance and her stylist was keeping out of her affairs. By now, Rosa knew how to do many things related to her appearance on her own, able to pull her hair up into its usual braid crown and pick out matching clothes. She disliked being fussed over, since she felt as if she was a child. That wasn't to say that she didn't truly love her country, after all, she wouldn't be here if not for that. It may be stressful and annoying at times, but she wanted the people to fully support the kingdom's decisions and if doing that meant being fussed over and forced to wear stuffy tailored clothes, then so be it.

There was a faint knock at the door. Rosa took a quick look around the room she'd been assigned to make sure it was as presentable as she was and then straightened up, clearing her throat. "Come in," she said softly. The doorknob clicked as the person on the other side turned it and pushed the door open. Her loyal golden retriever, Leo, lifted his head and shifted his position on the bed, wagging his tail as the guest entered the room. Rosa smiled as her close friend stepped inside. "Ionela! I didn't expect to see you so early."

"Really?" Ionela asked, checking the elegant wristwatch she always wore. "It's lunchtime. My grandfather asked me to come and get you, since he didn't see you at breakfast." Rosa bit her lip, not realizing that that much time had passed. She'd been up since six that morning…was it noon already? Ionela ventured further into the room, approaching the bed and scratching Leo behind the ears. "Grandfather says that he'll tell us about his sortie from yesterday, now that he's feeling better. Apparently the Oseans keep overstepping their bounds or something like that, venturing deep into Erusean territory."

"As if they haven't learned yet what comes from meddling in others affairs," Rosa muttered half-heartedly. Admittedly, she wasn't as enthusiastic about this war as she previously was. Osea was incredibly gung-ho, eager to jump into a fight as evident by many of their previous strategies in the past. They took all of the credit for ending the Belkan War and liked to think of themselves as some sort of saviors. She didn't hate them, but they needed to be taught to stay in their own lane. That's what her father and several of the Erusean generals told her, anyways.

Ionela tensed up, taking a deep breath. She continued to scratch Leo behind the ears, and Rosa saw her dog give a grateful whine as he wagged his tail. Ionela briefly wore a troubled look. "Do you believe that this war…all the fighting and death…will really teach Osea a lesson? Is that the only reason that your father declared war?" she asked. Rosa bit her lip again, a common occurrence whenever she was uncertain or nervous about something. Ionela noticed her hesitance in providing an answer and gave an awkward chuckle. "You know Rosa…er…I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that. I'm sure your father has his reasons."

Rosa nodded slowly. "Yes…I'm sure he does." She took a deep breath and remembered then how hungry she actually was. "Well, let's not waste more time just standing around. I'm hungry and I'm sure Leo could use a walk." Leo barked at the combination of his name and the word 'walk' and both girls laughed as he leapt to his feet and raced to the door, eagerly awaiting said walk. Rosa slipped on a pair of flats and brushed her hair out of her face. "Seems Leo agrees. Let's go then. What do you say?"

"Of course," Ionela grinned and opened the door for Rosa and Leo to step out first. As they made their way down the hallway, several men and women, mostly scientists and mechanics greeted them respectfully. Ionela seemed used to being called 'Lady Shilage' at this point, but Rosa still found a distaste for being addressed as 'Princess Cossette'. Ionela seemed to notice her discomfort, as she brushed her hand against Rosa's arm and asked gently, "Are you feeling okay, Rosa?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I am," Rosa replied. "It's just — well, it's actually a bit silly." Ionela gave her a curious look, inviting her to continue. "You'd think with all of the speeches I give that I'd be used to it, but I still don't like being in the limelight all the time." A warm summer breeze greeted them as they stepped outside and Rosa took a deep breath as she looked around at the facility. Several mechanics and scientists were looking over the planes that Sol Squadron flew, paying extra attention to General Shilage's plane. She noticed several black marks from where they were. "Looks like he took some damage out there."

Ionela followed her gaze and Rosa saw her small smile flicker the slightest bit. "Yes, it took a bit of a beating," she said with a nod, leading the way to the building where they all ate. "Not as much as Grandfather, though. He was in an awful condition when he came home. He didn't want to admit it, but…he needed a lot of help from myself and Dr. Schroeder. It's getting harder for him to continue flying the same way he always has." Ionela took a deep breath and flashed a smile towards Rosa's bodyguards as they approached them. "Anyway. Alma has been nagging him all morning, so he finally agreed to tell us all about the mission, ever since Lieutenant Seymour told her about the lightning storm."

Rosa's jaw dropped. "They flew through _lightning_?" Ionela gave a very un-ladylike snort and started to giggle, then it changed to a full on laugh. Rosa held back a frown, simply staring at Ionela in mild astonishment. "I'm sorry, Ionela…did I say something wrong?"

"No, I'm sorry! I shouldn't laugh, really…" Ionela took a few breaths and then regained her composure as they stepped inside. "It's just…you aren't the first person to show some surprise at hearing of fighter jets flying in storms and lightning. It doesn't actually do any damage. Modern fighters are lightning resistant and it really only messes with the HUD for a couple of seconds." Rosa narrowed her eyes. What her friend was telling her was like a completely different language. Ionela gave her an apologetic look. "I apologize. I know this isn't your thing. Growing up around a bunch of fighter pilots, well, you can't help but pick up a few things. If you'd like, then I could have grandfather explain it to you better than I ever could."

"No worries. I wouldn't want to bother him with such a silly question," Rosa said with a gentle, awkward chuckle as they entered the mess hall. "Besides, I'm sure your grandfather runs into laymen a lot and gets tired of answering the same questions." Ionela gave a short nod and led the way for Rosa and Leo over to the table where General Shilage was waiting with Alma, apparently in deep conversation. Rosa saw the smallest of a smile on the general's face as Alma suddenly giggled about something. Rosa had known the family for years, and her father was good friends with the general. It was very rare that she ever saw him show much emotion, but his granddaughters seemed to bring out a softer side in him.

Ionela gave her grandfather a quick hug and took a seat beside Alma. General Shilage greeted Rosa with a firm, respectful nod as she took a seat and Rosa returned the gesture. "I see you finally decided to join us, Princess," Mihaly said and Rosa blushed, forcing a soft laugh. "Roald and Hermann are getting the food together. They wanted to hear the story too, since they had to stay behind on the last sortie."

Just as the general said, within a few minutes two men approached their table carrying trays with several options for food. Lieutenant Hermann Jonas and his close friend Lieutenant Roald Kedves. They were the two younger members of the experimental squadron stationed at the EASA base, also the more outgoing and energetic. Roald was only a few years older than Rosa, about twenty-two or twenty-three. Hermann was only a year or two older than Roald was. Both men had a distinct look about them, like someone you'd actually expect to see in the military. Hermann was tall, broad shouldered and fit with dark hair and alert green eyes, whereas Roald was a bit skinnier and shorter, still broad shouldered with a distinct jawline. He had dirty blond hair and blue eyes, always looking curious and aware of his surroundings.

Although Rosa rarely spoke to them, they always showed her kindness whenever they happened to encounter one another. She knew that they had a disliking for Erusea and her family, though, and wished to restore the nation they'd come from so many years before. Rosa didn't blame them. In fact, in a way, she understood their patriotism and admired the loyalty they continued to hold for their own country. Although they never seemed to forget the fall of their home, they still seemed eager and cheerful nonetheless. Right now, both of them displayed nothing but excitement at hearing about their leader's outing the previous afternoon.

They all exchanged a brief greeting as they collected some food from the two trays that Hermann and Roald had been carrying. The Erusean military prided itself on providing its soldiers and prisoners with excellent food and high quality living conditions. Other countries may not have considered it a priority, but Rosa noticed that there always seemed to be high spirits among the soldiers she'd visited. For the most part, anyways. With fresh fruit and a prime selection of meats and soups, they ate almost as well as the civilians and royal family did.

Rosa chose a small fruit salad and a bag of chips from the selections presented before her, watching as the soldiers interacted with one another, as if the girls weren't there. To her surprise, Hermann actually handed Alma her food instead of letting her pick it out. "Just like you ordered, Lady Shilage," Hermann said with a kind smile as Alma took the wrapped up sandwich and carton of milk from the pilot. "Grilled cheese and strawberry milk. Chef's special."

"With mayonnaise and bacon crumbs on the sandwich, right?" Alma asked him, furrowing her brow as she suspiciously inspected the sandwich before unwrapping it. Rosa and Ionela both chuckled at her detailed order. Roald and Hermann grinned, and once again Rosa saw a small smile creep along General Shilage's scarred face as he watched his granddaughter fuss over her meal.

Hermann finally answered her question, his smile never faltering, "Of course. I made sure that the chef got everything just right, even down to cutting it into triangles. That there is a grilled cheese fit for a queen, m'lady."

"I don't think she'd have it any other way, Lieutenant," Ionela said with a smirk, folding a napkin and passing it to her younger sister. "Now, Alma, what do you say to Lieutenant Jonas after he went through the trouble of getting your food specially made?"

Alma rolled her eyes. "Ionela, I'm not five anymore. You don't have to talk to me like I am." Ionela gave Alma a stern look and Alma quickly added to Hermann, "Thank you, Lieutenant Jonas."

Hermann collected his own food from the tray, giving a mild chuckle. "No worries, Alma."

After everyone was settled and had started to eat, Roald eagerly addressed the general, "Mihaly, I took a look at your plane on the way over here. Mechanics said it's gonna take weeks to get it back in working order." General Shilage gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement as he took a drink of water. Roald went on, "Wit and Seymour said that some Oseans gave you a bit of trouble. It wasn't those F-15s that we intercepted over the Hatties Desert, was it?"

"Couldn't have been," Hermann cut in. "They weren't equipped for air-to-air. Hell, they barely had any air-to-ground weapons. Remember how we took on one of their lead birds? They sure as hell were cocky, but not prepared for a fight. They retreated once they lost one of their men. No way they coulda took on Mihaly in the condition we left them in before they left the AO."

Rosa narrowed her eyes at his comment. Were they chasing down crippled or retreating aircraft? She may not know much about war, but there were still rules in it, whatever a soldier may think. Rosa knew nothing about planes either, but she also knew that if the enemy were to withdraw or weren't able to hold their own in a fight, whether it be because of damage or because they weren't properly equipped, it was considered honorable — at least among Erusean soldiers — to let them go. General Shilage, however, did not address this matter and instead replied with, "The Osean F-15s were there at the Yinshi Valley. They had an…interesting squadron covering them from the drones."

Ionela gave Rosa a concerned and possibly…angered look as Alma eagerly asked their grandfather, "Did you get them?"

"Some of them, but not all. They had a couple of planes supporting them, all of them bearing white scratches on their tails," General Shilage told them. Rosa was amazed by the straight, serious face and tone he was maintaining. Most storytellers added a flare of emotion. She could see the excitement was clear in his eyes as he recounted the event, but his face and voice betrayed none of that emotion. He went on, "At first I thought that the first challenger I had might be able to stand his ground in a fight. A MiG-29 Fulcrum with two scratches on his tail. It wasn't like the others, which only seemed to have one scratch, so I assumed he was the leader. After a brief game of cat and mouse, he proved himself…unworthy, to say the least."

"So what did you do from there?" Hermann asked casually, elbowing Roald as his friend tried to steal his potato chips.

"I continued with the operation, just as I was told," the General said calmly. He paused to take a bite from his salad, then seemed to think carefully of what he was going to tell them next. "At first it didn't seem like it would be an interesting battle. None of them stood a chance. Most of the Osean fighters allies had retreated, leaving behind only a few planes. Nothing we couldn't handle, but one pilot came at me head on. He was flying an F-2. There were three scratches on this ones tail, and I assume they signify some sort of skill set. I could quickly see why this one had three strikes. He was almost on my level…the closest thing I've had to an equal in many, many years.

"Curious to see if this one was actually worthy of my time, I allowed him to chase me through the rocks. I managed a hit on him, and he was also struck by lightning, but he wouldn't let up. Surprisingly, he scored a couple of missile hits on my aircraft. The weather was getting worse, though, and my plane had already taken too much damage to risk fighting against the wind, so Wit and Seymour and I regrouped above the clouds."

The General's story came to an end, and Rosa found herself in some sort of awe. General Shilage had always seemed like he was an invincible pilot to her whenever she heard stories from him or those that flew with him, and someone managed to one-up him in a battle. Someone who probably wasn't even an ace. Was he? Rosa, although upset to learn that they were chasing down retreating aircraft, pushed aside her emotions and asked him, "Well…why haven't you run into this pilot before? Where do you think he came from?"

"Osea would be my best bet." General Shilage deadpanned and Roald and Hermann burst out laughing, leaving Rosa feeling a bit like an idiot for asking such a question. She walked into that one for sure. The General took a deep, raspy breath. "I'd guess that I hadn't run into him before because it wasn't our time to meet. But now that I have a challenger in the skies, I can't help but feel…invigorated. I want to face him again, in better conditions. Just one on one, so that we can see who the superior is. So that we can learn from each other." His dark eyes flicked over to his wingmen, "And that is the lesson you are to learn from this story."

"What do you mean, General?" Roald asked quietly. Everyone looked to General Shilage expectantly, even Rosa and Ionela.

"Your mentors are not the only ones who have something to teach you," the General replied in a firm tone. "Your enemy is a human just like you, and every single one has something to learn from. You study them in combat so that you understand them and how they move. In order to survive, you maintain an open mind and you watch them and grow when they manage to best you. Apply it to your fighting and use it to your advantage."

"Yes sir…" Hermann breathed out with wide eyes. It was clear that the General's men respected and feared him at the same time.

"That is why you show respect to the pilots you shoot down or kill in war," General Shilage went on. "They taught you much, and they deserve the honor and respect that you fight to earn." He took another drink of water. "Now, let's discuss something else."

Rosa looked down at her food, suddenly having lost her appetite. She slipped Leo a piece of kiwi and looked down at her lap the rest of their meal. War was different than people made it out to be and listening to what General Shilage was saying really made her think. The Oseans had faces and they had families, just like the Eruseans. Was this war to teach them a lesson…was there even a lesson to teach?


	14. Revelations

Chapter Thirteen: Revelations

|…|…|…|

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**July 14th, 2019.**_  
**1330hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Avril carefully looked over the F-15Cs that belonged to the surviving pilots of the reconnaissance team. They were in good condition, save for a couple of bullet holes that knocked out a necessary component or two. Avril looked around the hangar, expecting to see the usual mothballed planes that she'd fixed up for the Spare pilots, but instead saw the rest of the F-15s lined up. McKinsey had the con artist guy, the anarchist, and Avril's dumbass cellmate, Trigger, move the planes they and the ex-intelligance officer flew outside and park Cyclops and Strider's planes inside instead. It would only be for a couple of more days if Avril had any say in it, though. The Cyclops pilots had been breathing down her neck the entire time.

Cyclops 1, who Avril had been introduced to as Wiseman, was standing with his wingman, Fencer. Wiseman was a well-built, extremely tall gentlemen with a friendly, cheerful demeanor. Fencer was tall as well, only about an inch or two shorter than Wiseman, with a much more prickly and serious attitude. Avril could tolerate Wiseman, but she could barely stand Fencer. Maybe their personalities clashed too much, or maybe she just didn't appreciate the fact that he was so obsessed with his plane. You'd think it was a family pet undergoing some sort of risky operation with the way he treated it. In fact, he and Wiseman were chatting a just outside of the hangar while she was working, and Avril was well aware that Fencer kept looking inside to see what she was doing.

Outside, the roar of several engines told her that some extra supplies were being flown in from an allied base. Unfortunately all of the fighters were grounded since most of them were still in and out of solitary, so Avril rarely got a chance to see how well the planes she built held up in an actual combat situation. After Erusea suddenly quit bombing the 444th, McKinsey only sent Spare Squadron up when it was necessary for missions deeper into Usea. Avril didn't mind not seeing them fly that often, though. It only made her remember that she was stuck on the ground with a bum leg that kept her from pursuing any career in flying, however short-lived it would most likely be. _Damned Osean aviation laws..._

She limped across the hangar and through the hangar doors to finally speak with the two pilots. "Your planes are in a pretty decent condition, for the most part. It should only take a day or two to get 'em fixed up again," Avril told them. Both men nodded slowly. Avril realized she now had a chance to speak with them about the last mission. She wasn't friendly enough with the other pilots on base so they rarely told her about what happened while they were out. Avril had almost expected Trigger to talk about it when she came back to their cell the previous night, to try and make conversation, but Trigger had just climbed onto her bunk and gone to sleep without so much as acknowledging that Avril was there. Not that Avril was bothered by the lack of attention, and she couldn't blame Trigger for not sharing, either. "I am curious about one thing, though. I noticed that there's only four of you…how'd you managed to make it out? I heard the guards mention it was bad…apparently there was one hard-ass flying for the Eruseans."

Wiseman and Fencer both looked at each other before Wiseman answered, "There was. The Eruseans have a couple of great pilots in their midst, along with the with the drones. Without the support from your guys, we might not have made it out this lucky."

Avril raised an eyebrow. "Really? It looked to me like most of our pilots bailed on you as soon as things got rough. They aren't exactly renowned for their courage and it wouldn't be the first time they chose solitary over actually putting in an effort."

"Well, most of them actually did retreat," Fencer told her with a dry chuckle. "But two of them stayed behind and tangled with the enemy so we could retreat. Eventually, a third guy came back to help drive them off."

"Really?" Avril asked, placing her hands on her hips. That was something new. She wondered which dumbass had the idea to stay and cover the retreat. That used to be her dad's job, before he got himself killed. Reason number one why she wasn't able to fly and why she built that stupid plane with her grandfather. Admittedly, she still blamed Harling for the last war. In fact, back when Trigger first arrived, she thought about giving her a thank you note for killing the guy. "Well…thanks for telling me. I'll get to work on your planes, now. I'm sure you probably wanna get back to your own base, eh?"

"No problem." Wiseman turned away from her and climbed into the nearby cart that the guards used to go between the hangars.

Fencer followed him, climbing into the back of the cart, facing her. "Let me tell you one other thing, though," he said. "One of your pilots is pretty tenacious, takin' on the enemy ace alone back there. In fact, all three of the support showed some pretty amazing skill and determination. I, for one, was impressed by it. I'd keep an eye on them if I were you." He laughed, indicating he wasn't serious with what he had said, but Avril actually didn't think it was too bad an idea. Fencer's laughter slowly trailed off. "Anyways. You should take a look at their planes. No way they didn't take some damage out there. They could use the tune up."

"Right…" Avril said slowly. "Whatever you say. Thanks again." Fencer nodded in response, then the guard assigned to play as their escort drove them away. She watched them leave, then looked over towards the other planes where she saw Trigger playing fetch with their AWACS controller's guard dog. Not too far away, Count, the self-proclaimed leader of their squadron of misfits and lowlifes, was smoking a cigarette and carrying out a conversation with the other old guy from the allied squadron and the only female pilot they had in their squadron. Then nearby, looking over some of the other planes, Avril noticed the anarchist guy, Tabloid. He was always this cheerful guy with a dumb grin on his face, so she never thought much of him. He'd been the last pilot to return to the base…was he the one that took on the enemy by himself?

Tabloid turned around, facing his wingmen, then he must have noticed Avril glaring at him. He turned around and gave her a tired look for a moment before he quickly gave her a friendly grin and tilted his head to one side. Avril didn't return the greeting. If she wanted to know the details about the battle, maybe she could find a way to talk to him. The guards and the base commander usually went pretty easy on her compared to the others. She'd earned that for herself, repairing planes and whatnot. It might have also had to do with the fact she was a civilian. Whatever the reason, she knew that she could put in a request to stay out past their curfew, for 'work related' reasons. Then she could say she needed some help in the hangars and choose this Tabloid guy to give her a hand. She figured he was more of a follower than a leader, so he probably wouldn't tell her much unless he was on his own.

Deciding she'd finish planning later on, she started to limp towards him once he'd turned his attention on the others. He looked her way again when she finally reached him. "Hey," she called out to him. "It's Tabloid, right?" Of course she knew who he was, but she didn't know how else to start a conversation with him.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Scrap Queen," Tabloid said with an even wider grin. Avril resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The title wasn't so bad, now that she thought about it, but the gambler and the thug they used to have in the squadron used it more as a term of mocking than a legitimate nickname. _Whatever_, she thought. The two of them were dead now, anyways, so it didn't matter to her. Besides, at least the anarchist didn't have some sort of snide tone or condescending comment after. Tabloid looked her over. "Soooo…do you need help with something?"

"Not exactly," Avril replied with a small smirk. She placed her hands on her hips again and leaned off of her bad leg to give it some rest. "I need some help around the hangars later tonight. Commander McKinsey wants those F-15s in top condition ASAP, so I'm gonna have to do some overtime to get them ready." Avril shifted her weight again, looking to the hangar, then back at Tabloid. "I was wondering if you wanted to help me. I would ask someone else, but everyone's either stuck in solitary or lack any common sense when it comes to aircraft repairs."

"I'm not trying to argue with you or anything, but what makes you think I'll be of any help?" Tabloid asked her, his grin fading. "Definitely not the go-to guy when it comes to tinkering with planes."

Avril shrugged. "I've seen you working a couple of times before. You seem to know your way around an aircraft and can follow orders pretty well," she replied. Figuring he might take some further persuasion, she added, "Also, I can get my hands on some cheap liquor and you and I can have a drink while we work. McKinsey keeps a couple of bottles of the stuff in his office, which I happen to be allowed to access to. The office, anyways. Either that or I can find actually filtered water to drink. Better than the shit we're drinking now, that's for sure."

"Tempting offer." Tabloid crossed his arms, looking over at where Trigger was. Avril didn't turn around, keeping her eyes fixed on Tabloid's face, scanning for a reaction. At last, his blue eyes flicked away from that direction and back on her. "Well, I was gonna play some poker with some of the other pilots tonight, but what the hell." His dumb, cheeky grin returned. "I'll give you a hand. But I'm gonna hold you to that drink offer. What time do you want me to be at the hangar?"

"Say…around 2100?" Avril asked him, tilting her head up and once again shifting her weight. "I have a few things to do beforehand, otherwise it'd be earlier."

Tabloid pretended to think for a minute. "Yeah, that should work in accordance to my schedule," he said. "Y'know, since you'll be getting the drinks, I'll try and get my hands on some mugs from the mess hall. Don't wanna make you do everything yourself."

"Alright, then it's a deal," Avril said, crossing her arms. Tabloid kept grinning, then held out his hand for her to shake. She looked down at his hand and then up at the expectant look he was wearing. Sighing, she humored him and gave his hand a firm shake, officially sealing their little deal. _This guy's weirder than I thought_. "Well, I have to go dig up some extra tools, so I'll see ya around. If you don't show up on time then I send the guards after you." With that, she turned around and started to limp away, hearing him laugh at her comment. Did he think she was joking? Ah, well. Avril probably wouldn't be too harsh on him even if he did show up late. He was kinda likable, at least compared to the other cons she had to put up with.

* * *

**2100hrs.**

Avril waited in the hangars for Tabloid to show up, just as planned, with the cheap whiskey she'd managed to steal from McKinsey. She wasn't much of a drinker, so maybe that explained why she wasn't exactly looking forward to the drink itself, but rather the conversation. Perhaps some strange part of her wanted some friends around the base. Maybe living in that shithole would be more tolerable with someone to share her suffering with. Sure, she had Trigger to share a dingy old cell with, but that wasn't the same. She wasn't comfortable with Trigger just yet.

Just as Avril was about to go and look for Tabloid, he waltzed through the hangar doors, dumb grin and all. One of the guards, Sergeant Baker, was his escort that evening. Baker was never on good terms with any of the prisoners, and he looked about ready to pull out his gun and shoot both of them if it meant he could go about his evening. "Alright, Mead, I brought your scrawny little friend to you," Baker snapped, shoving Tabloid on his back. "I'm leaving you both here on your own, so no funny business. And you better not tell McKinsey that I left or I'll throw you both in solitary until the war is over."

"Hey, my lips are sealed," Tabloid chirped, sauntering over to the crate Avril had set up as a table. He held two rusty mugs in his hand and he set them both down before turning back around to face Baker. "I can't speak for the Scrap Queen here, though."

Avril rolled her eyes, glaring at Baker as she did. "Yeah, I didn't want him around anyways," she said to Tabloid. "If you'll excuse us, Baker, we have work to do." She limped over to where she'd set out some tools and grabbed a wrench, tossing it to Tabloid. He just barely managed to catch it, grinning even wider when he did. Baker shook his head and groaned, quickly turning around and heading back the way he came. Avril waited until she was sure he was gone before she made her way over to the makeshift table and began to pour them both a drink. As she passed him his mug, she said, "You can just call me Avril, y'know. No need for all of that Scrap Queen nonsense."

Tabloid accepted the cup gratefully. "Oh...well, whatever you say, I guess." He watched as she limped back to her original spot, taking a quick sip of his drink. Avril saw him quickly surpress a disgusted look, swallowing the bitter tasting alcohol without any protest. Tabloid tilted his head to one side, his grin turning into a small smile instead. "Something tells me that we won't be working on those planes. Not tonight, anyways." Avril raised an eyebrow, signaling for him to go on. "I mean, for one you don't have any tools in your own hand and you stopped messing around with them as soon as Baker left." He lifted the wrench in his hand for emphasis, tossing it back to the tool box nearby.

"Not a bad observation. I'll give ya that." She took her own swig, staring distastefully at the contents of the mug. Definitely not the best drink she'd ever had, but it would do. "We'll be working on the planes, eventually. But not until later. You see, I figured you don't get a lot of meaningful conversation around here, and I thought I'd change that." Tabloid gave her a look of bewilderment, but he didn't say anything in response. Avril shifted her weight off of her bad leg, then motioned for him to sit down on a nearby box. "Take a seat if you'd like."

He did as she told him, taking a seat and looking up at her, smiling again. "So, what do you wanna talk about first?"

"Well, we've got plenty of time," Avril said cooly. "Why don't we start with the basics?" She took another sip of her drink. "Where're you from?"

At first, she thought he didn't understand the question, then she expected a smartass answer like 'Osea' but eventually he shrugged. "Oh, I grew up in November City," he replied. "Let me tell you, the sunsets there are gorgeous, especially in the fall." It seemed like he was starting to loosen up a bit, since he went on about his hometown for a bit longer before abruptly asking her, "What about you? I can't very well spend the entire night talking about me, now can I?"

"I've lived all over Osea, actually," Avril said with a smirk. Tabloid gave her a curious look. "Military family," she explained. "I spent the first three years of my life in Oured, then we moved to Bana for about four years, and then we moved to Aurick for a year, then back to Oured, and then to Cape Landers and I moved back to the outskirts of Bana when I was fifteen to live with my grandparents." Avril decided to chuckle and throw in some humor to help ease the tension. "Lemme tell you, after all those years of moving around, if I'd had my way then I'd have never travelled again. But the government had a different idea, aparently."

"Yeah, I've never been a big fan of how the government operates," Tabloid answered with a sheepish laugh. Avril nodded, not knowing how to respond and not really wanting to get into politics with him. She wasn't invested in politics after her dad died. It was easier to just avoid them than argue with people over them. Their conversation went on for a good while. Tabloid was a surprisingly chatty guy, going on and on about the novels he'd read, asking if Avril had read them. He was into the classics, liking very few newer stories, although he did bring up some children's series he read in high school about magic and wizards.

Avril wasn't exactly a bookish person, so she simply nodded and listened to what he said. Eventually, she managed to turn it around to the mission by asking him about a few books on aircraft she enjoyed, then asking him about being a pilot, and then she had set up a perfect opportunity to get the story she wanted all along. "You must be a pretty good pilot to have made an impression on those pilots ya'll were sent out to assist in that thunderstorm," Avril casually put into the discussion. "In fact, apparently you guys put on quite a show."

The smile Tabloid was wearing faded and he shifted in his seat, looking down at the floor. "Ah...of course," he said. "I remember that day well." Avril held back a scoff. It was the day before yesterday, of course he'd still remember it. He seemed hesitant to share the story with her, but he went on anyways, narrating it as if he was telling of some legendary fight. "Admist the swirling clouds, a fighter squadron was trying to help its allies reach safety. Trigger was insane out there. She flew through those clouds, twisting around the rocks, helping us take down the enemy anti-air weaponry like it was nothing."

"Sounds like she's pretty foolish," Avril commented at the mention of Trigger. Of course that dumbass was involved.

"Well, yeah, I thought so too," Tabloid forced a laugh. He quickly got back to the story, "But suddenly, a highly skilled enemy fighter squadron appeared and jumped on the recon team, picking them off at the edges. One by one, they fell right out of the sky!"

Avril narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow, surprised with how Tabloid had shared the story. He seemed to have a flair for the dramatic. She knew how to get the information she wanted next. If it was Tabloid that did all of the work, she could play his ego and find out. Simple as that. This was also an effective way to find out about his character. If it wasn't him and he took credit for it, that would make him a liar. If he told the truth, then maybe she could risk befriending him. "Although, I suppose there was nobody around that was even more foolish to go to their aid then," Avril said. She pushed herself away from where she'd been leaning, trying to sound as calm and coolheaded as possible, turning her back on him to look at the planes in the shadows. "So, you simply watched things unfold from a distance."

It didn't take long for him to reply with a short, simple, "Yeah." Avril tensed and looked over her shoulder at him, slowly turning back around as he continued, "It was Trigger who jumped right into the storm. She flew into the enemy's sights and took on their leader without even blinking. I don't think she even cared. It was insane...but, I mean, then again, who would've ever thought that I'd just go and follow her straight into the enemy squadron like that. I don't know how we managed to survive and get back with as few casualties as we did. When Count came back and gave me a hand, well...I'm pretty sure that all three of us were out of our minds." Avril didn't know what to say. She wouldn't argue with him, that's for sure. All three of them must have been terrified, just flying by the seat of their pants.

She studied Tabloid for a long while, noting his sudden change in behavior. He looked tired now, staring off into space with a faint smile and swishing the contents of his mug around absentmindedly. So it wasn't him, it was Trigger. Avril had to admit, she wasn't expecting that, especially not with the way Trigger acted all the time. A president murderer didn't seem the type for heroics, and yet here they were. Maybe there was more to Trigger than Avril had previously thought. She still needed to be cautious about this. Before the silence became awkward, Avril quickly asked him, "So how did you feel?"

Tabloid slowly looked up. "Well, I'm still kinda shaken up, actually," he replied, straightening up. "But you know something? I do feel a certain sense of pride, too. A bunch of misfits like us gettin' the praise of some bigshots in the air force. And it's all thanks to Trigger."

"She really is foolish, isn't she?" Avril asked, managing a small smile.

"Yup!" Tabloid said with a smile, eyes lighting up. He lifted his mug into the air as if toasting his wingman. "She sure is!" Both of them finished off their drinks and fell into a comfortable silence. Tabloid finally stood up, groaning as he stretched out. "Well, as much as I enjoyed the drink and the discussion, it's getting late and I'm pretty beat." He set his mug down on the empty barrel and turned towards Avril. "You wouldn't mind if I called it a night, would you?"

Avril grinned. "Hell yes I'd mind!" she said with a laugh. "I said you were going to help me fix up these planes and there's no way I'm gonna go to McKinsey and tell him that I didn't get any work done."

"Fair enough," Tabloid said, also smiling at this point. Avril approached the tools and tossed him a rag and a wrench once again, both of which he quickly caught. "So, where do we get to work first?"

"Well, we'll start with the flight leader's plane and the one next to his," Avril said, flicking on the hangar lights and looking over the planes once again, assessing them with no trouble at all. "They're in the worst condition so I want to get them out of the way first, since they'll be the most trouble." She tossed a wrag over her shoulder and grabbed her own wrench and gloves, passing Tabloid a pair of gloves that he could wear. "It's gonna be a long night, so hopefully that shitty whiskey didn't get ya too wasted."

"Nah, not to worry about that." Tabloid fell into step beside her. "I can hold my liquor. It takes more than one drink to get me drunk." He suddenly chuckled, looking down at his feet as if he was embarrassed by something. Avril gave him a curious look. "I actually hope that we can get together again and chat over a drink. It was nice being able to chat to someone. The rest of the cons aren't exactly the most personal, y'know? Sure, I've got Trigger and Count, but they keep everyone at arm's length. I was surprised when you approached me, because I thought you were the same way."

Avril was taken aback by the statement, but she nonetheless offered a friendly smile. "Well, if I'm being honest, I actually am like that," she said, ducking underneath the plane's wing to find where she was going to start work first. "I don't belong here like the rest of these prisoners. I took a chance reaching out to you. Truth be told, you aren't like the other prisoners." Tabloid smirked at this and Avril huffed and added, "Don't look so smug just yet."

"Well, don't you trust me? I mean, you know enough about me," he said, still smirking as he crouched under the belly of the plane.

She stopped, fighting a smile and placing her hands on her hips, staring down at him. He actually wasn't as bad as she expected, and he seemed to have a good judge in character. Not to mention he was more than a little cheeky, but not in an annoying way. He really wouldn't be a bad friend. Then again, this wasn't the best place to make friends and that wasn't what she was here for. At last, she answered him. "I haven't decided yet. It takes more than a stupid grin to win me over."

"I'll keep that in mind, then."

"You do that." She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as they got to work.

* * *

_**July 16th, 2019.**_  
**2300hrs.**

_Why am I doing this? If I'm caught it's the end of my career. _The AWACS controller paused at his own thoughts. _What career?_ Bandog knew very well that his career ended the second that he'd punched his superior officer and got kicked out of flight school. If he hadn't done that, he'd probably be flying an F-15 somewhere for some squadron that nobody would ever remember instead of stuck in this dump helping out an ungrateful slime ball and putting his own ass on the line. _Eh, might as well help the little dipshit. Full Band isn't all _that_ bad._

The only good thing to come out of his entire time at the 444th was McKinsey pawning off Sarge onto him. He didn't mind her, even if she was a little clingy and not much of a guard dog. Instead of barking and growling at the prisoners, she made friends with most of them and lashed out at the guards. It confused him to no end why Sarge would act all lovey-dovey with Trigger and Tabloid, indifferent to everyone else, and then bare her teeth and bristle every time she came across Sergeant Baker or McKinsey. Bandog always considered dogs to be excellent judges of characters, so maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that he had her after all. She hadn't been wrong yet, so for the time being, he figured he could trust her when it came to people.

There was one other good thing to come out of his work there other than Sarge. He got to meet a top ace pilot and a skilled squadron. Specifically one pilot from Cyclops had caught his eye, though. Lieutenant Hirose was a lovely young woman, and Bandog couldn't help but find her attractive. He'd only had a few conversations with her, since she brushed him off every time he made an attempt to talk with _just_ her. Maybe he saw her as a challenge, or maybe he had just been deployed too long to be selective about women. The only women on the base weren't his type after all. That Mead woman was a bitch and Trigger was a bit young for him. In a way he saw Trigger as more of sibling material than someone he would want to date.

But Hirose — Húxiān — was everything he could ask for. She was smart, feisty, not afraid to swear, and best of all she put Count and Full Band in their place a time or two. However, he had to maintain a professional relationship. After all, she'd be gone in a few days and he'd probably never see her again. Still, that didn't stop him from thinking about her. He'd read her report from the battle, since the Long Range Strategic Strike Group pilots had turned in their reports early. She had an interesting way of wording things. By far, Húxiān's report had been the most interesting to read. She got a few good roasts on the pilots from the 444, too. It gave Bandog a good laugh, and he'd previously thought that only he had the nerve to call the cons anything worse than 'morons'. _Maybe in another time and place..._

Beside him, at his feet, Sarge's fur suddenly stood up on end and she began to snarl. Bandog looked down at her, annoyed by his thoughts being interrupted by her. "What's up now, Sarge?" he asked her, knowing completely that she couldn't answer him even if she wanted to. She perked her ears up and fixed him with a curious look, as if she understood what he was saying. The canine let out a soft whine and then curled her lip up slightly, looking down the hall. Bandog sighed, reaching down to stroke Sarge's. "So far you've growled at three guards, a rat, and that one prisoner that came by to collect the trash. Why can't you just let me know when Commander McKinsey comes by, huh?" At the mention of McKinsey and the sound of approaching footsteps, Sarge's growling became quieter and she squirmed her way behind Bandog's legs to stand between him and the door.

The reason for her odd behavior was no longer a mystery to Bandog as the source of her distress turned a corner and came into view. Commander McKinsey was clutching a few folders in his arms, holding a cup of coffee in the other hand as he made his way down the hallway. Having to think fast, Bandog quickly spun around and pulled the spare key he had to McKinsey's office out of his pocket, pretending to be struggling with the door. He had to think of a way to stall McKinsey, otherwise both Bandog and Full Band would probably be facing a firing squad in the morning. Maybe that was an exaggeration, but Bandog wasn't one of McKinsey's favorite people and the feeling was mutual. Bandog didn't trust McKinsey. He didn't trust any of the people here, actually, but McKinsey was _definitely_ not to be trusted under _any_ circumstances.

"Dammit, why won't this stupid door open…" Bandog muttered under his breath, effortlessly catching McKinsey's attention. He saw the commander stop and look up at him out of the corner of his eyes. _Perfect. That's just what I want you sour old man_. He heard McKinsey clear his throat an whirled around, pretending to be surprised by the commander. Sarge was already pressed against the wall, still growling at McKinsey, although her tail was tucked. _Crazy mutt. Sometimes I wonder if you're as bad as he is_. "Oh! Commander McKinsey! What are you doing here so late?"

McKinsey narrowed his eyes, wrinkling his nose as if he was disgusted to be in Bandog's presence. He glanced down at Sarge, then looked Bandog up and down. "I could ask you the same thing." He took a sip of his coffee, grimacing, then adjusted the files in his hands. "What are you doing here anyways, Bandog? I thought you went to bed hours ago."

"Oh, umm…I couldn't sleep so I came by to work on my report from the last operation," he lied, keeping his hand on the doorknob in case Full Band tried to come outside, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice. "I haven't gotten a chance, what with escorting Major Wiseman and his squadron around the base all the time." Not that he was complaining. After all, he got to see Húxiān more that way. McKinsey pursed his lips, nodding. Sarge watched his every move as he held out the files he was holding for Bandog to take. It was a surprising move, and Bandog could only look down at them and then up at McKinsey. "Sir…why are you handing me these?"

"I couldn't sleep either so I went over the prisoners' reports," McKinsey explained with a shrug. Bandog hesitantly took them and looked at the first one. In messy writing, McKinsey had titled it '**_Spare 2 - Count - Battle Report Operation Two Pairs_**'. The others probably had similar titles, the callsigns being the only difference between them. Bandog knew that the reports would be very different from one another, knowing how kills were self recorded and all. McKinsey seemed to confirm this, as he then said, "Count and Trigger's reports contradict each other. I want you to speak with both of them. Count's got a good combat record, but being here because of fraud…well, he's not the most honest guy. However, I don't trust Trigger as far as I can throw her. You're keeping an eye on them in the air, right?"

"Of course," Bandog replied, shuffling the folders about, not even opening them for a glance. He'd look at them later, when he wasn't trying to keep Full Band out of solitary. "Don't worry, commander. I'll straighten the two of them out. I'll let you know who's telling the truth." _I already know who _isn't. He didn't care for Count too much, but he could tolerate him. The guy was a glory hound, and it only got worse now that Trigger had come along and he'd had some real competition. Trigger wasn't a bad pilot. Neither was Count. Both of them were rather skilled with the flying part, but when it came to dogfighting and taking out targets, Trigger seemed superior for the most part.

"Perfect," McKinsey said, his lips contorting into their usual smirk. "Well, I'll be on my way. It seems you have everything handled. I'll let you get back to fighting with the door." He looked down at the still bristling Sarge and frowned. "And Bandog…take your dog to the doctor or something. I don't want Major Wiseman thinking that the guard dogs we have are rabid or anything." With that McKinsey started down the hallway, completely unaware that Full Band was currently snooping through his files and on his computer.

As soon as Bandog was sure that McKinsey was gone, he practically burst through the door to find Full Band sitting in McKinsey's chair without a care in the world while the printer finished a couple of papers. "What the hell is taking so long, you moron?!" he demanded. Full Band lazily looked up at him, the look on his face completely innocent as if he had no idea why Bandog was upset with him. "McKinsey was just out there and I had to get rid of him. Now I'm gonna have to get my report ready by tomorrow. Meaning I've got hours of work ahead of me because of your slow ass!" Full Band shrugged and went back to the papers he was reading. Bandog harrumphed, annoyed that Full Band practically ignored everything he said. "What the hell are you reading?"

"Trigger's OADF file," Full Band said nonchalantly, turning the page. Bandog stared at him in disbelief, checking the hallway before he slammed the door shut and approached the desk. Full Band didn't even flinch, acting as if he was reading a fascinating book rather than someone's personal information. He glanced up at Bandog. "Nice photo of her in here — really her best side if you ask me. Can you believe she's only twenty-one? And just barely at that. Finished high school early, attended college at the Osean Air Defense Force Academy where she was trained and then was transferred to Fort Grays after she graduated. Wow. Kid's basically a fighter pilot prodigy. Damn…"

Bandog rolled his eyes. "Yeah, big deal. That's not what we came here for, Full Band." He watched the printer for a moment as. "I take it you're printing out some of the stuff you found on McKinsey's computer?" Full Band nodded distractedly. Bandog shook his head and snorted with contempt. "And when will they be done printing."

"Oh, they're done now." Full Band waved a hand dismissively, furrowing his brow as he continued his reading. Bandog opened his mouth to say something but Full Band hopped up from the chair and immediately cut him off. "Bandog, you'll never believe this!" Full Band dropped the open file on the desk and pointed at it. "Okay, so her last name is Foulke, right? Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" Bandog nodded, eyeing him suspiciously. He went on eagerly, "I thought it did too so I kept reading and they have her parents on file. They were stationed at Valais Air Base during the last war and guess who her dad was. Larry Foulke. You know, that Solo Wing Pixy guy. The ace from the Belkan War!"

"What does this have to do with anything?" Bandog asked. "So she's got Belkan heritage and her dad was some ace that got shot down after trying to nuke the world. Really impressive information."

"No, no, no, you don't get this. Flying is in her blood. Her dad was an ace, and her grandfather and great-grandfather were pilots in the Belkan Air Force years ago. Her brother fought in the last war against Erusea when he was only eighteen." Full Band was grinning now, and his eyes had lit up. "She's the daughter of a legacy. Like…air force royalty or something. Damn, no wonder she's so good…I don't believe this. With some time, she could be a real asset to the penal unit."

"Full Band, she already is a real asset to the penal unit," Bandog pointed out flatly, not in much of a mood for Full Band's antics. "Why would this change anything?"

"Bandog, with her on our side, we could get sent onto some real missions once in a while,," Full Band said, heading over to the copying machine in the corner of the office. "Once the top brass realizes how much of a dent we're making, we can get outta this dump once and for all!"

"But…Full Band, what if she kept this information hidden for a reason instead of flaunting it?" Bandog said, trying to look at things from a logical standpoint. Full Band was crazy. There wasn't a doubt about it in his mind now. "There is a stigma surrounding those of Belkan descent. I imagine it would be worse for someone related to a mercenary and a terrorist. Nobody's heard anything of the Foulke family since that documentary. Hell, nobody knew he had a family. Then if anybody from Belka found out about it, well…how would you feel about someone who helped in bringing your country to its knees?"

Full Band hesitated for just a moment before he shook his head. "Nah, I'm confronting her about this. She could learn a lot from her father. He was the real deal, y'know. The Demon Lord overshadowed him, of course, but still."

"Do whatever you want, Full Band," Bandog replied with another sigh, knowing that there was no way he could stop Full Band. He was a stubborn little bastard and he was going to do whatever he pleased. Regardless of the consequences. "Just remember that there is such a thing as being in over your head, Full Band. And truth be told, I think you're going to get us all way past that point. Hell, you probably already have."

Full Band looked back at him. "Just trust me, Bandog. Once we find out the truth about McKinsey then everything should settle down and there'll be no more sneaking around McKinsey's office. But now that we have Pixy's daughter on our side, I think our luck's really gonna change. Trigger's got promise, she just needs some motivation." Bandog shook his head and allowed Full Band to continue with his copying of the papers, going through and straightening up McKinsey's office as he waited. Maybe Full Band had a point. Bandog just didn't want anything bad to happen to these guys. In some weird way, he cared about them. Did he really? _Eh, maybe_.

* * *

_**July 17th, 2019.**_  
**1600hrs.**

The soft patter of rain outside and the rumbling of thunder told Count that the storm they'd flown through over Yinshi Valley had found its way back to Zapland. It would be a couple of days before it continued on, but until then they'd have the weather to compete with. Knowing McKinsey, he'd either use it as an excuse to ground them and keep them locked up for a couple of days (time in the yard would be out of the question) or he'd suddenly decide that they needed some training and force them to fly with the thunder and the wind like he had with the last operation. It would most likely be the former, and they'd be confined to their cells and the hangar until it blew over.

With this in mind, Count hurried up work on a trashed radio he'd found in the scrap pile. The Scrap Queen had been busy, so he managed to steal it and take it back to his cell. Ever since they'd gotten back from Roca Roja, Count couldn't get the idea of taping a radio to his cockpit out of his head. It would certainly be useful in a pinch. He could figure out how to eavesdrop on the Eruseans and have the advantage in a battle, at least over the human pilots they had. At the same time, he knew that the others would be upset if they found out about it. Tabloid and Trigger knew about it and they had no problems, but if McKinsey found out about it…well, Count would be spending many of his likely numbered days in solitary.

Sighing, he stuffed the screwdriver he had back into his pocket and flicked the switch to turn it on, but there was no sound. He fiddled with the dials, but nothing. No static, no music, no talking. _Shit_. Count groaned and made his way across the hangar to return the screwdriver he borrowed, tired of tinkering with stuff for the day. He tucked the radio under his arm and looked outside at where his beloved Flanker was getting pelted with rain as the storm worsened. He'd have to wash it off. Again. "First the radio, now this," he muttered to himself. "I'm starting to think that this day couldn't possibly get any worse."

The only other person in the hangar with him was Trigger, who was doing something with a wrench. Everyone was working on their visitors' planes, mechanics and 'pilots' alike. Count found it disgusting. A bunch of hotshots who couldn't hold their own in a dogfight and yet McKinsey worshipped the ground they walked on. Everybody did, actually. Even Trigger. Count thought that he could trust Trigger to be the last person to blindly trust someone, and yet she seemed to be perfectly fine with them. Granted, she was still her usual awkward self. He didn't understand Trigger. In fact, he was starting to think it was impossible for anybody to understand her.

As he came into view, Trigger looked up and she gave him a brief smile. Count rolled his eyes, refusing to return it. Truth be told, he didn't like it when people smiled at him. After spending years studying how people acted, and with all the street smarts he had, it was often a bad thing when people smiled. It meant they were hiding something, whether it be something they did or some emotion they didn't want others to know. Count did it frequently, mostly just because people were subconsciously aware of how people could smile for the wrong reasons and he loved to piss them off. Trigger's smiles always_ seemed_ genuine, but he wasn't sure how well he could trust her just yet. She was too guarded. It felt like she had something to hide, so Count was going off of his gut instinct for the time being.

"Giving up on your radio or are you just taking a break?" Trigger asked. Count didn't respond, dropping the screwdriver into the toolbox he'd taken it from and setting the radio on a nearby tray with a frustrated grunt. Her face fell, almost to a concerned frown. He turned back towards her, placing a hand on his hip, raising an eyebrow curiously. It seemed like she was trying to read his thoughts or something, what with the way she just stared at him with an unblinking pair of brown eyes. After just a few seconds, she finally spoke again, "Well, that's not a good sign. Looks like you're having more trouble than you thought you would, huh?"

"Yeah, no shit," he scoffed. It was Trigger's turn to roll her eyes at him, turning her attention back to the F-15 belonging to the pilot they called Húxiān. Húxiān was a pretty young woman, a little older than Count, and she had an attitude that rivaled the Scrap Queen's. She didn't like Count, that was for sure, and she wasn't pleased at all by the crush that Bandog seemed to have developed on her. Admittedly, Count didn't know that Bandog could have feelings for anyone other than himself, but the guy was full of surprises it would seem. Crossing his arms, Count studied the plane, taking in its appearance. Had he not gotten thrown into the penal unit, he might have had a chance to fly one of these. "I thought the ground crew finished the work on these."

Trigger set the wrench she was holding down and brushed her short, partially sweat soaked hair off of her forehead, smearing grease across her temple as she did. As she began to wipe her hands off with a rag nearby, she took a deep breath. "Yeah, Avril and Tabloid did a lot of work the other night, and so did some of the other mechanics. However, McKinsey ordered an inspection and noticed a lot of mistakes, so he's asking me to go through and fix them," she answered, slinging the rag over her shoulder. It wasn't difficult to notice that she was irritated by this. "I don't know why, considering I'm not a mechanic." Her eyes flicked over to him once again and she scowled. "Come to think of it, you were supposed to help, too."

Count sighed. "And? You said it yourself: neither one of us are mechanics. Why should I bother?" He took a few steps forward, reaching up and running his hand along the underside of the wing. Smirking, he looked back at Trigger, who was wearing an unimpressed look on her face. "Nothing's stopping me from admiring it, though. The F-15 _is_ a pretty sexy bird after all." Trigger said nothing to this, simply tossing the rag at his head and then turning her back on him. It hit its mark, only because Count made a feeble attempt to dodge it, and landed on his shoulder. Stifling a laugh, he repaid Trigger by walking up behind her and smacking her on the back of the head with the rag. She flinched and glared at him indignantly, so he flashed her a fake smile. "What goes around comes around, Trigger."

He thought he heard her mutter something that sounded awfully similar to 'cheeky bastard'. _Yeah, too bad you're stuck with me, princess_. The two of them had nothing else to do for the day, but until the guards told them they could leave, they had to stay put or face a night in solitary. Trigger was going through and straightening up around the hangar as if she needed everything to be in order, moving a couple of crates and barrels out of the way among other things. Count only watched her, shaking his head as she occupied herself the remaining time. Women were confusing enough on their own, but Trigger brought that to a whole new level. She noticed him watching her and gave him a sheepish look. "What? Just because it's a penal unit doesn't mean we can't clean up. Honestly, you guys live like barbarians."

"Well, I don't mind it," Count said with a shrug, reaching into his pocket to pull out the pack of cigarettes he had. "Nothing wrong with a little clutter. Gives the place character."

"Pfft. I bet your mother _loved_ having you help around the house." Although Trigger's words were meant to be nothing more than light teasing, Count couldn't help but bristle at the comment and mention of family. Trigger noticed him tense and her expression softened to a somewhat curious and perhaps disappointed frown. "I was only joking, Count," she said, her confusion with his reaction made very clear. When he shifted uncomfortably, she narrowed her eyes. "Why the look?"

Count pulled out one of the few remaining cigarettes he had, searching for something to light it with. Distractedly, he answered her with, "No reason for the 'look', Trigger. Just mind your own business for once." She opened her mouth to reply, likely with some 'witty' comeback, but thought better of it and simply cleared her throat, looking away. _Good_.

The sound of footsteps and water splashing got both of their attentions and Count looked up in time to see Tabloid skid to a halt, soaking wet from the rain, out of breath. His messy brown hair stuck to his head and his scruffy beard was dripping from his apparent sprint through the storm. Count never had any issues with Tabloid. They were cellmates, and aside from his yammering about books and government, Tabloid was a decent guy to be around. The way he followed Trigger around like a lost puppy was a little irritating, though, but Count didn't know why he was so bothered by it. Maybe he just didn't like that Tabloid effortlessly trusted Trigger, following the dumbass straight into the enemy's sights. Oh well. There wasn't anything he could do about it.

Trigger seemed to perk up as Tabloid entered the hangar. Count scowled as she suddenly, in a much cheerier tone, greeted Tabloid. "Well, look who finally decided to show up," she said. Hell, she practically purred. Count continued his search for a lighter, listening as Trigger continued to talk while Tabloid regained his composure. "Y'know, I think if you'd just asked, then they would have let you use the showers. You didn't have to go and play in the rain." Tabloid gave a soft chuckle at the poor attempt at a joke, but it was easy to tell that his mind was elsewhere. Trigger almost instantly picked up on this. "Hey, is something the matter, Tabloid? You look a little worried."

"Ah, he's probably just a little scared by the thunder," Count lied, crossing his arms and giving up on finding a lighter. He didn't have one and neither did Tabloid or Little Miss 'I don't like smoking', so it was pointless to waste any more of his time. Tabloid glared at him for the comment as he stood next to Trigger, rolling his eyes. Count held his head up, but figured he'd echo some of Trigger's concern regardless, "Seriously, though, pal. What's wrong?" Truth be told, he considered Tabloid the closest thing to a friend that he had, so he didn't go out of his way to upset him like he did with everyone else. Tabloid acted like he was everyone's friend, though, so it wasn't too difficult to avoid confrontation with him.

"Actually, nothing's wrong with me," Tabloid replied. Count and Trigger exchanged a look before expectantly turning back to Tabloid. Without any hesitance, he happily explained, "I overheard that Wiseman guy talking with McKinsey, right? And it sounds like he was trying to convince McKinsey to let them do a little test flight to make sure their planes are in working order and McKinsey agreed." Tabloid was starting to get excited, and his usual grin spread across his face. "That's all fine and dandy, but it's not even the best part. Wiseman was really adamant about having us fly with him a little when they go up. Apparently they want us to try a couple of maneuvers just to see how we handle under better circumstances and then he might put in a good word for us!"

Count was suspicious of the major's intentions, also dubious that McKinsey would actually allow it. Trigger on the other hand suddenly had the widest grin he'd ever seen, practically beaming from excitement. "Wait, you're serious?!" she asked eagerly, and Tabloid nodded. Trigger grabbed Count's arm, likely without thinking about it, and excitedly shook it as if she thought he wasn't paying attention. What on Earth was she getting so excited for? It wasn't a big deal. When she noticed that Count didn't share her enthusiasm, she let go of his arm and frowned again. "Count, aren't you excited? An ace — a real life ace — has taken notice of us. This could be really good…it could get us out of this shithole once and for all."

He snorted. Was she seriously buying into that garbage? Of course she was one of _those_ people. After being in the penal unit a few weeks, the optimists started to lose their 'hope' or whatever the hell they ran on and then the second they thought of a way out, they clung onto it like there wouldn't be another opportunity ever again. Maybe they were right, but it was annoying to the rest of them. Sighing, seeing the look of confusion on Trigger's face, he began his explanation, "Okay, I'll be honest with you, Trigger. You're stuck here, and guys like Wiseman are only looking to benefit themselves. He's not going to put in a good word for us. Don't you get it yet? We're expendable, every single one of us. Your life and supposed 'skill' aren't going to get you anywhere. They mean zilch. So I hate to break it to you, but you're stuck here like the rest of us, doomed to waste away until nobody remembers you ever existed and no bigshot is going to change that."

Tabloid scowled. "Gee, Count. Real positive outlook you've got there," he said. Count rolled his eyes.

"Do you not trust Wiseman and the other pilots?" Trigger asked him, seemingly irritated by what he'd said.

"Real sharp, aren't you Trigger? Does anything get past you?" Count asked, smirking. He heard her suck in a sharp breath and stiffen at the insult, but she didn't say anything.

The tension didn't last very long, and the subject was quickly dropped as soon as they heard someone shouting as they entered the hangar. Count was the first to see Full Band enter the hangar, Bandog following close behind and shouting something at him, as usual. Count groaned as soon as he saw Bandog's 'pet' trot into the hangar, tongue lolling from her mouth, seemingly oblivious to the rain soaking her fur. As soon as the dog noticed the three of them, she took off, barking eagerly, stopping short just in time to shake the rain off of her. Count groaned as some of the rain spattered onto him and the distinct wet dog smell filled the air. Bandog and Full Band didn't seem to mind the rain or the smell as they approached.

"Full Band! Again, you're cutting these things too close," he snarled, his dark hair flattened rather unflatteringly against his head and forehead. It made him all the more a sight to look at as he lit into his partner in crime. Count chuckled mildly. Wouldn't that be ironic? The jailer joining the criminals. Priceless. "Just because _you_ don't have a life worth worrying about doesn't mean that _I_ don't, so that's the _last damned time_. I am _done_ helping you!"

"You don't mean that," Full Band said, looking almost hurt by the comment from the AWACS. Bandog pursed his lips, but didn't respond. Full Band offered a cheeky grin and Bandog growled and looked away from him, focusing on the planes. Shrugging it off, the former intelligence officer turned towards the three of them, not at all discouraged by Bandog's usual gruffness. Count liked Full Band. He was a babbling idiot, but a pretty good fighter pilot for someone with little to no training. Full Band spent more time around Bandog, though, so Count didn't spend much time with him on the ground. However, whenever he returned from an information gathering spree, he always shared it with Count and Tabloid and now Trigger. Judging from the twinkle in his eyes, it was clear he'd gotten his hands on a juicy bit of information. "Well, his grouchiness aside, how's it going?"

Trigger and Count locked eyes, Trigger giving him a look that said that she wouldn't soon forget what he'd said. Finally she turned to Full Band as if Count wasn't there at all and answered, "Everything's going just fine." She also took notice of the look in Full Band's eyes, and it wasn't hard to tell from Bandog's behavior towards him just what had happened the night before. She turned the subject around to his information gathering. "So, what did you find out last night? Must've been something pretty good."

"Oh…yes. Yes it was." Full Band looked around at them, then reached into his flight suit and pulled out some papers that had gotten more than a little wet from the rain. It looked as if they were still readable, and once they dried out a bit, it wouldn't be too bad. Tabloid wrinkled his nose and slowly pulled away the soggy papers, looking them over briefly before he passed them over to Trigger, who set them down on the mechanic's tray for them to dry. Full Band watched her every move. "I think you might find some of those very interesting, Trigger. Specifically the last page."

Trigger gave him a perplexed look. "Umm…why?" Full Band didn't answer, but he did perk up as Tabloid allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. Count and Trigger only watched as Tabloid looked over the paper. At first, he only furrowed his brow as he read, but then the color seemed to drain from his face as he looked up at Trigger. "What?" The concern in Trigger's voice grew, but Tabloid only slowly passed her the paper. She quickly grabbed it from his hands and read over it. Count watched her worry turn into confusion. She looked around at the four men, then back at the paper. "It's just my file, Full Band. So you know my real name, now, and a couple of other useless facts. Big freaking deal."

Full Band suddenly looked really excited. "Are you serious Trigger? Why did you never tell us?" he asked her, looking as if he'd just received the greatest gift ever. Count studied the older man suspiciously as he took a step towards Trigger. They were about the same height, but Trigger recoiled in a way and started to take a step back, making her look a bit smaller than she usually did. As much as he liked seeing the oh so mighty Trigger acting as human as the rest of them, he wasn't sure why he felt unease at the situation. He felt like nothing good was going to come from this. When Full Band started gathering intel, did anything good ever come from it, really? Full Band, well aware of the others staring at the two of them, continued to talk at a fast pace, "You're Larry Foulke's daughter! You're the daughter of a legend! Flying is in your blood and with some work, we could really use that to our advantage!"

Count suddenly realized why Tabloid was standing off to the side with a sick look on his face, staring at Trigger with some sort of pity. Trigger looked confused, on the other hand, clearly unnerved by the situation as a whole. It took Count a moment, but he recognized that name._ Larry Foulke…Foulke…legend…hero? Wait, that one doesn't sound right. No, not a hero._ Count remembered that name very well in just a few seconds, stories that his father told him of times during the Belkan War and the documentary that he watched in high school and then again at flight school. How could he have missed it? The same colored eyes, the ruthlessness in the air, the fact that she could speak Belkan. It all added up now. Count scoffed and quickly cut in, "Hold on, now. '_Legend'_? You're delusional, Full Band. Try terrorist. Or war criminal. Either of those work."

Trigger suddenly gave Count her full attention, clenching her fists and drawing herself up to her normal height. The look changed to one of…anger? He'd seen her annoyed with him every day since she got here, but seeing her angry was new to say the least. He kept a blank expression as she turned her back on Full Band and Tabloid and took a few steps so that she was able to make easy eye contact with Count. "What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded. Was she playing dumb or was she actually this stupid? Count didn't answer her, raising an eyebrow to ask for clarification. Trigger let out an impatient huff. "You're lying Count. My father was just your average pilot in the last war. He wasn't a terrorist or a war criminal or whatever you claim he was."

"Trigger, didn't you watch that old documentary? From back in 2005?" Count asked her, trying to keep himself calm. He felt an odd sense of betrayal. Betrayal itself wasn't unknown to him, but why would he feel betrayed by someone he never trusted and someone who wasn't loyal to him in the first place? Pushing these feelings and thoughts to the back of his mind, he continued, "Warriors and the Belkan War. It was a documentary by Brett Thompson and it interviewed the pilots that fought with or against the Demon Lord of the Round Table. Larry Foulke happened to have done both — he fought with him as his wingman in the mercenary Galm Team and then he betrayed him and tried to wipe out borders or some shit. He just proves that Belkans can never be trusted."

Looking as if someone had just slapped her in the face, Trigger seemed to go into a state of shock. She shook her head and her breathing picked up. No longer was she looking at Count, instead her eyes were fixed on something behind him, as if she was looking at something far away and not paying attention to him. In an instant, she snapped her attention back to him and snarled, "So what if he did? What the hell does that have to do with anything now?!" Trigger took another step forward and they were almost nose to nose. "What does it have to do with me?!" Count opened his mouth to reply, but he found himself at a loss for words. Trigger's lip quivered slightly as she pulled away from him and spun around to face the others. Come to think of it, they had circled her like a pack of wolves, keeping her confined to a circle. Count noticed a panicked look on her face, but she kept up appearances. "Will one of you answer me, please?!"

"Listen to me, Trigger," Count snapped, bringing her attention back to him. "The sins of the father, alright? How are we supposed to trust you? You're the daughter of an infamous traitor, furthermore, you're technically Belkan."

"I was born and raised in _Osea_! I'm _from Osea_! I'm _Osean_!" Trigger insisted, sounding as if she was in disbelief rather than actually angry. "I didn't even know about it until then."

"That doesn't matter." Count didn't want to be around her anymore. He'd hear about Belkans. Portrayed as monsters in the history books, they certainly enjoyed living up to their reputations. Although he knew it was ludicrous, he couldn't help but reach for another argument, searching his mind almost desperately. He didn't really want to admit why he didn't trust her. The fact that her father was a Belkan wasn't a convincing argument. Even he knew it wasn't fair. Maybe he was just looking for another reason to keep her at arms length. "You know, maybe we shouldn't suspect McKinsey. Maybe we should suspect you, Trigger."

"Count? What on Earth are you talking about?" Bandog demanded.

"Think about it. The UAVs at the start of the war were launched from containers from Gründer Industries. They're a Belkan company. 'North Osea' my ass." Count kept his eyes fixed on Trigger. She wore a blank expression now, now. He bit his lip, then went on, "And then she kills Harling and gets sent here. Did you think maybe the Eruseans are in this with the Belkans and needed a plant or something."

"You sound like a paranoid old woman, Count," Tabloid pointed out. "Why would anybody want to infiltrate a penal unit? What're they gonna do? Find out how often they need to use solitary against someone?"

Count scoffed, and looked around at them all. "Fine then!" he raised his voice slightly and it echoed around the hangar. Sarge pinned her ears and her fur started to stand up as if she was worried an argument would start. Bandog quickly shushed her. Count pushed past Trigger and Tabloid, glaring at Full Band as he started towards the open hangar door. "Go ahead and risk your lives for someone who'll turn on you for the right price. Why should I care?" It was every man for himself in the penal unit and he didn't know why he thought — even for just a moment — that it was otherwise. Let those morons follow somebody that had no skill and was likely to turn tail and run to the enemy at the first sign of danger. See if he cared.

Tabloid, Full Band, and Bandog said nothing as he left, but Trigger called out to him. "Count, wait! Why are you acting like this?" He ignored her, not bothering to even look back, and before long he was making his way through the rain back to his cell block. Not worth it. They all proved his point. Nobody here was worth his time, and her highness definitely wasn't.

* * *

Author's Note: _Well, that escalated quickly. So Naomi's heritage is finally revealed. I hope you all enjoyed that chapter and the perspectives from different characters. We'll be back with Naomi in the next one._

_I'm going to be taking a break from writing for about a week or two, so the next chapter (which will cover Pipeline Destruction) probably won't be out until mid June at the very latest. I'm not going to be frequenting the site, but I'll try and answer any questions and reviews as best as I can. As always, thanks for reading!_


	15. Raising Suspicion

Chapter Fourteen: Raising Suspicion

|…|…|…|

**Fort Grays Island, Usea.  
_July 20th, 2019._**  
**0820hrs.**

|…|…|…|

"Here." Pixy looked up as Kathryn dropped something onto the table in front of him. It was a slip of paper with numbers scribbled onto it. He raised an eyebrow as he picked it up and looked at it and she tiredly explained, "Genette told me to give it to you. It's McKinsey's phone number, just like you asked for."

He perked up and immediately reached for his phone, pulling it out and tapping on the phone icon to open it up, completely ignoring Kathryn still hovering over him. Ever since Genette had found out what he had, Pixy had been anxiously awaiting an opportunity to speak with Commander McKinsey. Genette was still working with Knocker to find out more about the Fort Grays base commander, so it had taken him a while to get the number. He told Pixy that he'd found it out and that he'd get it to him as soon as he could. He didn't expect it would take as long as it did, though. Still, he was grateful. As he started to put in the number, that's when he noticed Kathryn's nervous hovering. He looked up at her. "Was there something else."

Kathryn hesitated for a moment. Neither one of them seemed to agree with the other one getting as involved as they were in the war. Pixy had a reason — he had a personal stake in this — whereas Kathryn did not. Granted, Clown had called Kathryn and Hans first to get them involved with it. But there was nothing more for them to do. Sorties had been few and far between for Golem and Mage Squadron, even then, they were all just poor attempts to get closer to the elevator. Each time the IUN forces were fought back by the UAV interceptors that Erusea continued to use. It wasn't as if Kathryn and Hans had been doing any good, although Kathryn continued to insist that this was for their friend instead of just her own attempt to get back in the action.

At last, she sighed. "I'm not sure if you getting involved is a very good idea, Pixy," Kathryn said to him. Pixy couldn't help but frown, scanning her eyes for any sign that she didn't fully agree with what she was saying. But it seemed that this was just some brutal honesty.

"What makes you say that?" he asked her, trying to keep the defensiveness out of his voice. Pixy took a deep breath and went on, "If the Grey Men _are_ actually making a comeback, or at least attempting to, then I have to do what I can to protect Naomi from them." He looked down at his phone and the half complete number he'd been dialing, then straightened up confidently and looked back at Kathryn. "You should know as well as anyone what it's like having enemies in Belka," Pixy told her firmly, ready to justify his involvement as much as was necessary. "Furthermore, you should know what it's like having enemies in Belka because of your father. I'm not the only one who pissed them off during the war. Cipher did a good amount of Belkan-crossing himself."

"Well, that's…fair." Kathryn crossed her arms, and looked everywhere but back at Pixy, avoiding eye contact with him. Instead, she looked out the window as she spoke. "But I also know that if this is the work of the Grey Men — revealing Naomi's heritage, I mean — then you're only giving them what they want by getting involved." Kathryn looked back at him, noting the confusion on his face quickly. "Just think about it. They're Belkans that wish to restore Belka to its former glory and they want to watch the world burn while they do it. Meanwhile, you're a Belkan ace that left Belka and assisted in driving Belka back during the war. So, they recognize your skill, quite obviously. You're a threat to them, just like you were all those years ago. And now Naomi is coming close to surpassing you in skill. You'd probably figure that they'd want to avoid having both of you together in the same sky, because then they have something to worry about, but in reality that's what they want."

Pixy furrowed his brow. "That's ridiculous."

Kathryn's expression softened. "No, just hear me out," she said. "I saw how Naomi reacted when she saw you, and how you reacted to seeing her. And how you're acting now. Although I'd love to see the two of you in the sky together, just because the two of you would be an unstoppable team under normal circumstances. At least from what I've heard and what little I've seen. But with a threat like the Grey Men or something like that hanging over your head, there's too many emotions involved and with all those emotions…well, you only become a danger to yourselves. You should know that as well as anybody." Pixy swallowed hard, but he said nothing. Kathryn was only repeating the same thing that Pixy and Cipher learned early on in their careers. "So in the air you aren't each others greatest strength, but rather the others greatest weakness. If you were to get involved, then you only give the Grey Men what they want."

"We don't know for sure if it's them," Pixy countered. "It could just be a few Belkans that have it out. Hell, some Eruseans might hate me, I don't know or care at this point."

"And that's your problem right there," Kathryn answered quickly. "You actually do care. And you care too much." Pixy frowned and looked back at his phone. Kathryn shrugged it off and started to leave. "Just take a few moments to step back and think. I know my dad would tell you the same thing if he was here." And with that, she was gone.

Pixy shook his head. She and Cipher were too similar. Only difference was that Kathryn had a more levelheaded personality and was better at emotional pep-talks. If Cipher had been in her place then Pixy would have just been called several insults. Most of them in Belkan. Dumbass and Arsch mit Ohren were Cipher's favorites from back in the day. Not that Pixy didn't do anything to deserve them once in a while. He considered what Kathryn said for a moment, ultimately deciding to go ahead and call. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something everyone else thought was stupid.

He finished putting in the number, tapping the green button to begin the call. At first, the phone rang and rang for what seemed to be an endless period of time and Pixy worried that no one would pick up. Eventually, the phone stopped its trilling and an irritable voice on the other end greeted Pixy, "_Osean 444th Air Base. Colonel McKinsey speaking._" So that's what McKinsey sounds like. He was gruff, with only a hint of a drawl, and his voice sounded like the stereotypical military leader in a movie. The tone he used only further implanted this image in Pixy's mind.

Wanting to play it cool, Pixy cleared his throat and cheerfully answered him. "Colonel McKinsey," he said, looking around to make sure he was alone in the mess hall before he continued. "You're just the man I was hoping to talk to!"

"_Who is this?_" McKinsey demanded suspiciously.

Pixy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you probably should have asked that before you announced your name and the name of your base," he said smugly. Okay, maybe it was standard procedure to answer that way, Pixy didn't really know or care. What he did know was that he wanted to see how easy it was to get under McKinsey's skin. If McKinsey could tolerate Pixy then he could tolerate Naomi. He heard McKinsey take a sharp breath on the other end and held back a laugh. "Alright, fine. Second Lieutenant Larry Foulke, former member of the Ustio Air Force's 66th Air Force Unit. Now, keep in mind that I'm taking a risk trusting you with that information, but I kind of need you to know it at the same time."

"_Aah, so you're the one I've been hearing so much about lately,_" McKinsey sneered. He sounded more confident and smug now that he knew Pixy's identity. Pixy was taken aback by the comment. So maybe this wasn't a good idea after all. Before Pixy could ask him what he meant by that, McKinsey gladly jumped into explaining the comment, "_Someone let spill about one of our pilots' real identity and found out that she's your kid. I have to admit, when I saw her last name I didn't think much of it until everyone started talking about it. I bet she was probably going around bragging about how you tried to end the world or whatever you were hoping to accomplish. Girl's got a mouth on her, that's for sure. Not too surprised she doesn't follow authority._"

Hearing McKinsey insult not only Pixy, but Naomi as well, made Pixy tense up. "She didn't know about my actions during the war," he said defensively. "But, that's besides the point. The fact that everyone knows…and she knows, now…it just confirms my worst fears." He trailed off as he came to the realization that Naomi must have heard the worst version. Galm Team had been like the monsters that parents use to keep their children in line, only they were real. Pixy wasn't proud of what he'd done and now he knew that Naomi was suffering because of it. The things those prisoners could do to her…the things they _would_ do if they got the opportunity…Pixy took a deep breath and tried to push it out of his mind. "Listen, that's besides the point. You obviously know who I am and who Na—I mean, who _Trigger_ really is. I need you to listen to me and…if we could take a chance and trust one another for a moment?"

McKinsey paused on the other end and Pixy heard a faint "_Hmmm…_" as the older gentleman considered the request. At last, McKinsey made a decision, "_Very well. But just know that I'm obligated to inform the top brass back in Osea about this conversation if it involves the security of our military._"

"Well…it kind of does, actually," Pixy said slowly. "Give me just a minute. I'm gonna put you on hold so I can move somewhere safer to talk about this." He looked around, doing just as he said he would, and left the mess hall. Within just a few short minutes he was in the safety of his temporary quarters. After checking around the room, he finally put the phone back to his ear. "Sorry about that," Pixy said with a sheepish chuckle. He heard McKinsey scoff on the other end. "Well, I'll take that as a good sign. Now, you ready for this?"

"_I have important work to do, y'know?_" McKinsey snapped at him. Pixy groaned. This guy reminded him of his old base commander, only twice as irritable. "_Hurry up and get on with this and stop wasting my time._"

"I'd get comfortable, McKinsey. You're gonna be here a while," Pixy said, taking a moment to prepare his explanation. Taking a deep breath and clearing his throat again, Pixy jumped right into all the backstory he was willing to give out to the penal unit's base commander. He explained how there was something going on with Colonel Matthews, the Fort Grays base commander, and explained that a few emails in Belkan gave away Naomi's heritage and how the other person seemed interested in it. He didn't mention the fact that Matthews was receiving transactions from Erusea as well as McKinsey was, considering that he didn't know if McKinsey might be in on it. He tried to sound as vague as possible. At least if he was in on it, then knowing someone was on their trail might make them take a step back and play it safe.

When Pixy was done, McKinsey seemed quiet and deep in thought. After a moment, he calmly asked, "I take it you know about my feeding false intel to the Eruseans, then? For Osea? And I assume you know the Eruseans are paying me for 'selling out' Osea?"

Pixy hesitated, but decided he might as well just be out with it. "Well, yes. Actually, there are several people on the payroll, but only you and Matthews caught our eye."

"_I'd be careful with Matthews, Lieutenant,_" McKinsey advised with a dry laugh. "_He wasn't a part of the original group that were assigned with this task. Fort Grays just isn't important enough to Osea…however, with the knowledge he has on the IUN's operations and plans, he might be important enough to the Eruseans. There's a good possibility that he's the one actually selling out his country, so I'd consider looking into that some more. Honestly, the guy's probably just trying to get some glory and cash. He doesn't give a shit about either country, I guarantee._"

Although McKinsey could have been throwing him off the trail, Pixy did realize how possible his theory was. Every IUN operation to gain more ground and reach the space elevator had ended in failure. The Eruseans saw them coming and launched interceptors to back up their drones. That was one easily fixed problem, but the threat to Naomi was another one. Pixy sighed. "Okay, I'll look into it some more and talk with a few people back in Osea and around the base," he said. "But I want you to make sure none of your guards are possibly double agents as well. Trigger is still a prime target for them and I want to make sure that my daughter isn't going to pay for my sins."

McKinsey quickly answered him, "_Don't worry._" He suddenly sounded irritated again. "_She's not paying for anybody's sins but her own._" McKinsey paused, then he said, "_However…as much as I dislike her, I will make sure that she doesn't get killed in her sleep. She's a shitty pilot, but we need everyone we can spare._" Pixy winced at the words. If he was trying to be comforting, then he was failing miserably at it. Pixy started to say something, but McKinsey quickly cut him off, "_And before you ask, she's doing just fine. Can't say that she's fallen into a good crowd, but she's still breathing for the time being. Now if you'll excuse me, I have real work that I need to get back to. I'll make some calls to HQ back in Oured and tell them what you told me. I'll also look into some stuff around here just to be safe._"

With that, McKinsey abruptly hung up before Pixy could even say 'goodbye'. Did McKinsey plan on taking him seriously? The way he phrased what he said made Pixy doubt it. He probably thought that he was insane or something and only humored him so as not to seem more rude than he already was. Regardless, at least McKinsey had something to think about. Pixy could tell Genette about it later on so that they could keep a closer eye on Matthews like McKinsey had requested.

But Pixy had more pressing concerns at the moment. His wife had recently asked him about Naomi and he was unable to provide her with an answer of any sort. Now he had something, but it wasn't entirely good news. Still, at least their daughter was alive. Taking a shaky breath, Pixy scrolled through his contacts until he reached his wife's name. The thought of Naomi being singled out in a prison wasn't a pleasant one, and what McKinsey said hadn't put his mind at ease. He needed someone to talk to. As soon as his wife picked up, he heard her usually gentle voice laced with concern that was only worsened as she heard her husband on the verge of tears. "_Larry? What's wrong?_"

"Emma…" he breathed out, taking a moment to regain his composure. "Naomi's alive. But…I have some things I need to tell you…for one, I think she knows about what happened during the war."

* * *

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
**1130hrs.**

Wiseman set down the receiver in his hand, having just finished a conversation with the LRSSG's AWACS, Long Caster. He informed them that the base commander wanted them back that night and that he'd be sending up two pilots to intercept their squadron in case they ran into any trouble. Although he didn't mention who it was, Wiseman hoped that it was two of the more experienced pilots, like Lanza or Skald. Once the war started, they sent a bunch of rookies to New Arrows Air Base to finish up their training and still be able to assist Osea in the war. Wiseman got sent Tailor, a young, half-Erusean pilot of only nineteen. Tailor was an idealistic young man and a promising pilot, but after the fight with Mr. X, Wiseman would be grounding him for much longer than he originally intended to and he could only pray that the base commander wouldn't send him up.

Sighing, he crossed McKinsey's office, waiting for the commander to show up so he could wrap a few things up. The open window gave a perfect view of the runway and the nearby yard, where several of the prisoners were engaged in a rough game of football. Count, Tabloid, and Trigger were all missing from the group, but Wiseman knew where the three of them were. McKinsey agreed to send them up with the rest of Wiseman's squadron for a short test flight to make sure that the F-15s were in working condition. They'd engaged in a mock dogfight and Wiseman got a chance to see how well Trigger could perform under regular circumstances. She was a hell of a pilot, and Count was too. Even Tabloid showed some skill.

What upset Wiseman about it was that they could never improve, and they still needed a lot of improvement. And the lack of teamwork was a whole other story. It just seemed like they couldn't work together. Well, Count couldn't work with the others at least. Tabloid and Trigger seemed to be able to work in unison for the most part, but Count seemed to refuse to work with either of them. In the end, Wiseman and the rest of Cyclops won after a slip up on Trigger's end. It seemed like she just wasn't interested in flying, and she slipped away the second they all landed. This place was full of strange people, and although Wiseman did think Trigger showed some promise, she was no exception.

Wiseman turned away from the window as he heard the door open. Commander McKinsey stepped inside the office, perking up as his eyes narrowed on Wiseman. "Aah, Major," he said. "I was expecting you to be by later on…" It sounded as if he was tired and distracted, and the slight red in the corner of his eyes told Wiseman that he must have been straining to read a lot. The commander set a file marked '_**Confidential**_' onto the desk with a heavy sigh and paused, tapping his index finger as he stared at the file tiredly. Concerned, Wiseman took a step towards him. McKinsey noticed immediately and cleared his throat, straightening up. Quickly, he asked, "How was your test flight? Any of 'em give you a hard time?"

"Er…no," Wiseman lied, not mentioning the difficulties with Count. He hadn't heard good things about the way convicts were punished. Wiseman knew enough about McKinsey to know that he was one of the types of people that put on a show for everyone. He struck him as one of those guys that would be nice to those below him just to make himself look better, but the second no one was looking…well, you can imagine. Wiseman knew from experience that he needed to remain neutral and not try and get involved, but McKinsey hadn't made a good first impression. The past few days had been tense between them, to say the least. Clearing his throat, Wiseman put on a smile. "Your mechanic did a good job repairing our aircraft. I don't think they've ever handled that well. At least, not for years."

"Yeah, she's pretty good at what she does," McKinsey answered distractedly, shuffling some papers around his desk. "I heard from Bandog that you were making some calls to your base commander about heading back to New Arrows. How's that coming?" Wiseman stifled a laugh. It didn't surprise him that McKinsey wanted him gone. Even if he wasn't being direct about it, Wiseman could tell that McKinsey was trying to figure out when he could get back to yelling at everyone. Maybe he just wanted something to look forward to.

"Well, I just got off the phone with our AWACS," Wiseman answered, nodding towards the phone. "Base commander apparently wants us home ASAP, so we'll be heading out immediately after lunch." McKinsey nodded slowly. Sensing that the conversation was starting to die off, Wiseman tried to come up with an excuse to leave the office. Although McKinsey outranked him, McKinsey wasn't actually in charge of anything Wiseman did. Still, out of respect he stayed behind, taking a good look around the office. He noticed the delicate case on a nearby shelf that held all of McKinsey's medals, and a part of him couldn't help but wonder how many of those he actually earned.

McKinsey seemed to grow uncomfortable with the silence. Quickly and visibly irritated, he demanded, "Is there something else, major? I don't appreciate people lurking around." He seemed to glance towards the door as he said this.

Wiseman shook his head slowly, eyes traveling back to the files that McKinsey was looking over. Certain words were highlighted, others marked out so that they couldn't be read. Although it was hard to see from where he was, Wiseman did catch a glimpse of what appeared to be Trigger's OADF file, noticing her picture before McKinsey slammed the file shut. "I do have a question," Wiseman said, playing it cool and casually turning back to the window as he spoke. McKinsey huffed in impatience, waiting for said question. Wiseman finally turned back to face the commander. "It's about Trigger. I'm curious…just what did she do to get sent here? Doesn't seem like the criminal type."

"Yeah, they never do," McKinsey muttered, suddenly grinning and chuckling softly. He shoved the files aside and walked around his desk to take a seat before he finally looked back to Wiseman. "I assume you heard about former president Harling's unfortunate demise?" Wiseman nodded. It had been all over the news, but there wasn't much information on it. Due to the war, the Osean government made sure that the OBC and other news sources got their hands on as little information as possible. McKinsey took his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes as he continued, "Yeah, well, Trigger fired the missile that killed him. All the information they got outta her was that she didn't do it or that it wasn't intentional. But, nevertheless, they thought she'd be an asset here and now I'm stuck to put up with her."

"Really?" Wiseman was a little surprised by the information. Although Wiseman didn't know a lot about her, Trigger didn't come across as a murderer. She was an amazing pilot and it was obvious she would have had a promising career as a pilot. So why throw it all away by killing Harling? It didn't seem likely and it definitely didn't sit right with Wiseman. He straightened up and looked to the door, taking a deep breath. "Well, thank you, Commander. That's all I wanted to know. Kid's got guts, that's for sure."

"Uh-huh. She's got guts, but no brains." McKinsey said with a scowl. He then motioned towards the door. "Now, if you don't mind, Major, I have a lot of work I need to get done and I'm sure you have a long flight to prepare for."

"Right. Thanks for letting us stay here, Commander," Wiseman said as he started towards the door. He paused when he opened it, looking back at McKinsey, who seemed to be watching him expectantly. Wiseman took a deep breath. "I'll be sure to inform my own commander of your actions. I'm sure he'd be pleased to learn we rested somewhere…safe. Good day, sir." With a curt nod exchanged between the two men, Wiseman was free to go. He carefully shut the door behind him and started down the hallway, planning on stopping by the hangar to collect his wingmen before he headed to the mess hall for lunch. Thankfully, that would be the last time he'd have to see McKinsey, or at the very least, the last time he'd have to answer to him. The guy seemed to be a borderline sociopath as well as a narcissist. _Weird guy running a weird base_, he thought. _Makes sense_.

It was a bit of a shock when Wiseman stepped back outside, having to squint to adjust to the drastic change in the lighting. When he finally did adjust, he looked around at his surroundings. The guards were bringing the prisoners inside for lunch, however, the guns and guard dogs hardly seemed necessary. The prisoners here were surprisingly compliant, at least from what Wiseman had seen. Aside from retreating in the middle of a battle and ignoring the orders to return, they followed orders surprisingly well. It seemed to him like they just didn't have the means to put up a fight, nor any real reason. They got meals, time outside, and they got to fly. Overall, compared to most prisoners, they had it pretty well. Maybe Wiseman just wasn't around to see the bigger picture. It was entirely possible that they'd been beat into submission. From the stories he heard from Trigger and Count, it seemed to be a reasonable thing to think.

As Wiseman started towards the hangar, he saw the AWACS controller, Bandog, standing beside one of the prisoners (Full Band, if Wiseman's memory served him correctly), engaged in what appeared to be a heated discussion. His Belkan shepherd simply sat beside him, tongue lolling out. Bandog was even weirder than McKinsey and seemed to fit in more with the prisoners than he did with the other guards. He had sharp facial features, black hair, a five o'clock shadow, gray eyes, and he was overly tanned due to the constant exposure he had to the sun. Wiseman couldn't help but find the guy somewhat likable, though. He had a cool name, a somewhat intimidating appearance, and he had a badass MWD follow him around everywhere. Not to mention, a hell of a card player. He was something else, that was for sure.

Full Band, on the other hand, Wiseman hadn't interacted with as much. He was much older looking in appearance, at least in his mid thirties compared to the other prisoners, all of which were still in their early to late twenties. Wiseman didn't know what the guy had done to get sent to the penal unit, but if his name meant anything then it probably was related to a radio or something. When Full Band noticed Wiseman, he immediately motioned for him to come over, causing Bandog to groan and shake his head. Wiseman debated actually going over there for a few moments, before he figured that there wasn't much else he could do. He'd feel bad if he just ignored him.

When he was within earshot, which was only a few seconds, Full Band greeted him with a toothy grin and held his hand out for Wiseman to shake. "I'm glad I got a chance to meet you before you left," he said. Wiseman paused and looked at his hand, which was covered with dirt from the game he'd been playing with the other prisoners. Returning the smile, Wiseman took his hand and gave it a firm shake, casually dusting his own hand off when he was finished. Full Band was still smiling. "Name's Full Band, but we kind of briefly met already." Wiseman's eyes flicked to Bandog, who was trying his hardest to ignore the conversation around him. However, both of their attentions were turned back to Full Band as he said, "I saw that little flight earlier. You've got some skills, I'll tell you that. Looked like Trigger gave you a run for your money, though."

Wiseman narrowed his eyes, briefly glancing at a rather annoyed and embarrassed looking Bandog. He tried to get Full Band to drop the subject, but to no avail. Curious as to why Full Band was bringing it up, Wiseman crossed his arms and humored him with an answer. "Yeah, she's pretty good," he said with a chuckle, looking towards the open hangars. "But I'd say we kept up with her pretty well. I mean, the Scrap Queen did some stunning work on our aircraft." He looked back at Full Band, who seemed beside himself with anticipation, his brown eyes glinting with excitement. Wiseman shifted his weight onto one foot. "So, what made you bring up the flight?"

"Nothing, sir," Bandog cut in quickly, almost nervously, and Full Band gave him a surprised look. He glared a warning at Full Band to keep him quiet. "Full Band is an intelligence officer, not a very good pilot. He's really…intrigued by people who are _real_ pilots." All three of them quickly realized the absurdity of the statement, and Bandog cringed at his own words, groaning as soon as he processed everything that had come out of his mouth. Full Band smirked at him. Irritated, he snapped, "Well it's better than the dumb shit that would have come out of your mouth, Full Band. But fine, go ahead. Piss Trigger off more than she already is, it's your funeral. See if I care."

"What's this about Trigger?" Wiseman asked. He actually wanted to know more about her, but he didn't know how much she'd give him. The other prisoners probably dug up as much dirt on her as they could, but being labeled as Harling's murderer probably made that relatively easy as it was.

Full Band looked between Bandog and Wiseman before he answered the question with his own question, "You wanna know where Trigger got that flying from, don't you?" Wiseman nodded in reply, putting on a blank expression as he listened. Full Band's smile returned. "You ever heard of Solo Wing Pixy? Y'know, that mercenary from the Belkan War that they interviewed in that documentary?"

"Yeah, I've heard of him." Wiseman replied with little emotion in his voice. It was true that many people had heard of Solo Wing Pixy. Nowadays he was a little less famous, but in 2005 up until about 2009 he was pretty well known. Wiseman, when he was at flight school, actually spent hours watching old footage of Galm Team, studying their tactics. His teachers at flight school also showed the footage during class, explaining how they could polish and improve the rougher tactics that mercenary pilots used. It wouldn't surprise him if Trigger picked up some of these tactics herself. There was a lot to be learned from the infamous Galm Team. Carefully, Wiseman asked, "But what does he have to do with Trigger?"

Full Band's grin widened and Bandog's scowl deepened. "Well, turns out the guy had a family, right?" Full Band said while Wiseman listened intently. "Now two of his kids went on to be fighter pilots. One of 'em disappeared off the radar and the other one…well, turns out she's right here on this base. You saw for yourself how crazy Trigger is, well, she gets that from her pops apparently."

"You're telling me Trigger's dad is Larry Foulke?" Wiseman asked in disbelief. He wasn't exactly a fan of gossip, but the information — if it was true — was intriguing to say the least. "You do realize the odds of that being true, right?" Full Band nodded, reaching into the pocket of his flight suit and producing a neatly folded sheet of paper. He passed it to Wiseman, who looked to Bandog as if asking if it was safe to read. He didn't want to be scarred for life by a crude picture or something of the likes, but Bandog nodded stiffly and Wiseman carefully opened it. After scanning over the paper and reading what hadn't been smudged, he looked back to Full Band with a raised eyebrow. "Did you copy this from the files in McKinsey's office?"

"Yup," Full Band practically chirped. "The old grump has no idea, either." He paused, suddenly tensing and putting on a serious expression. "Hey, you aren't gonna tell him…are you?"

Wiseman took a moment to think about it. If he was being honest, he probably should report the guy. At the same time, Full Band was already in prison. What would they do to him if they found out he was snooping? What _could_ they do to him? After going over the possibilities in his mind (the worst case scenario ones at least), he handed the paper back to Full Band. "No, I'm not. But you should be a bit more careful with information like that. Better keep your head down or things could end badly for everyone," he advised, noticing that Bandog was wearing a blank expression as he kept out of the discussion. "And what do you think of this, Bandog? You don't seem that surprised by it."

Bandog hesitated, avoiding eye contact with Wiseman as if he was as guilty as Full Band. "That's because I already knew about it, sir," he admitted. Wiseman waited before he answered, giving Bandog a chance to continue. He explained, "Our base commander has been…well, McKinsey's been acting a little suspicious lately. Full Band wanted to do some digging, and I let him, but we've got good reason, sir."

"You have a good reason for espionage?" Wiseman asked them. Both men exchanged a look with one another. He took another look to the hangar. _They're probably waiting for me__…_Wiseman thought of his squadron. He returned his attention to Bandog and Full Band. "Look, I haven't got all day, but I'm a little curious about this. McKinsey is…kind of sleazy, I will admit. So why are you sneaking about his office and stealing information?" With that, he gestured to the paper that Full Band was returning to the safety of his breast pocket.

"We found some emails written in both Erusean…and Belkan," Bandog answered carefully, checking to make sure that the other guards and prisoners were out of range. "Count knew Erusean and Trigger — as you can guess — knows Belkan, so they translated as much as they could." Wiseman motioned for him to hurry along the explanation, still listening and processing everything. Bandog looked to Full Band, obviously uncomfortable being put on the spot like he was. It was possible he felt bad about betrayed McKinsey's trust like this, and judging from how he was stammering and stumbling over the words, that was a likely answer. He regained his normally rigid posture and grew irritated suddenly. "Full Band, you're better at selling people out. _You_ explain it…"

Full Band moved to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but Bandog smacked his hand away and earned a chuckle from him instead. At last, the explanation continued, only with Full Band taking the pace up a notch. "As our grouchy guard dog was saying, McKinsey's been getting money from both the Eruseans and the Oseans. He's working as a double agent, y'know? Feeding Erusea false intel and then telling Osea about it so they get the advantage and can adjust their plans accordingly, right?" Wiseman nodded to show that he understood, keeping quiet so he didn't waste any time. He was getting a little impatient, but if it was important then his squadron could wait. Full Band quickly continued, "But recently, all evidence points to him selling Osea out to the Eruseans, not the other way around. We found out that Erusea has an area set up that's patrolled by the Arsenal Birds they captured. One of them circles the Lighthouse — the Space Elevator, I mean. The other one is kind of sporadic, but as far as I can tell it's near Osean forces and is making any operations tricky."

"Yeah, you're right about that," Wiseman said thoughtfully, recalling the LRSSG's recent mission to investigate in the Hatties Desert. "It's what sends out the drones and what alerted Mr. X and his crew when we were on our reconnaissance mission. You know how the drones showed up in Yinshi? We crossed the area that one of the Arsenal Birds was monitoring at the time. Not fun to deal with, let me tell you. They're really putting a dent in our operations."

"Well, some of the Oseans in our military might be helping them do that," Full Band said. He reached into another one of his pockets and produced what appeared to be a USB flash drive with something scribbled on it by a Sharpie marker. The former intelligence officer took a step towards Wiseman and held it out for him to take. "Here. This is all the information and evidence we have so far, plus a list of names of other double agents and the ones we think might be working for Erusea rather than Osea. Look over it, show it to your base commander if you think you can trust him. And if you find something new do you think you could give us a call so we have a heads up?"

Wiseman took the flash drive after a moment of hesitation and put it in his own pocket before he asked, "And how do you propose I do that? I can't exactly call McKinsey up and ask to speak to Full Band."

"Of course not," Full Band said, winking as he pulled out a blank scrap of paper and then held out his hand to Bandog. Bandog sighed before reaching into his uniform and pulling out a Sharpie, passing it to him. Muttering as he wrote down a phone number, he handed off the scrap to Wiseman. "Bandog has a cell phone in his quarters and an old rotary dial phone in his own office. Call either of those numbers and he's bound to pick one of them up."

"You alright with this, Bandog?" Wiseman asked, showing him the paper.

There was a tick in Bandog's jaw, but he eventually sighed and gave another nod. "Yeah, I'm alright with it," he answered. His voice returned to its usual harsh tone as he added, "I want criminals brought to justice, no matter who they are. And if we turn out to be wrong, then I've lost nothing, really."

Wiseman nodded as he put the paper into his pocket along with the USB drive. "Alright then," he said. "I appreciate the information. If this helps us get this war over with faster, then I'm all for it. I'll inform my base commander about this information." He saw both of them exchange a look of doubt with one another. Quickly, he thought of a way to set their minds at ease, "Don't worry. He's been serving the Osean military for years. He wouldn't sell them out, believe me. I can trust him." Wiseman looked around, then sighed. "Well, I better get going. Húxiān's going to be upset that I took so long. As for what you just told me…well, at least in regards to McKinsey…I hope you're wrong. See ya around."

He gave them a two-finger salute as a farewell (of which they both returned with unenthusiastic waves) before the three split off in different directions. Bandog and Full Band headed towards the mess hall with the rest of the guards and prisoners while Wiseman continued to the hangar to collect his wingmen. His mind was mostly on the information that Full Band and Bandog just dumped on him. It was overwhelming to say the least. Trigger was Belkan, the daughter of a mercenary, and Harling's murderer, McKinsey was a double agent possibly selling out his own country, and they were both so willing to give this information to him. Rather, Full Band was. It seemed Bandog was the only one with loyalty to McKinsey, even if he was starting to doubt it. _We've only been here a few days and already I'm stressed out_, Wiseman thought, rubbing his forehead to wipe away some sweat. _This spy drama or wis more than I can handle..._

When he finally arrived at the hangar, he saw his three wingmen all talking with Trigger. All of them looked a little tired, but still seemed to be engaged in a rather animated conversation. Húxiān, although usually rather serious, was even cracking a smile as Trigger said something. Fencer and Jaeger both laughed at whatever it was. When they all noticed Wiseman approaching, the conversation slowly died out as they all straightened up to stand at attention. Even Trigger did. He motioned for them to relax, grinning. "Y'all didn't need to stop talking on my account," he told them, glancing over to Jaeger, who was still smiling. "Must've been a funny discussion. Jaeger, you weren't sharing embarrassing stories about me, were you?"

"Nah," Jaeger replied, shaking his head. "There aren't any good ones and I didn't want to bore the kids to death." Wiseman laughed and cuffed Jaeger on the back of the head, causing the others to chuckle.

Húxiān regained her composure enough to stop laughing and ask, "So how'd the phone call with the boss go? I mean, no offense to Trigger, but I really hate this place." He looked at her for a moment and studied her appearance. Normally fair and with smooth hair, Húxiān's skin was starting to show signs of painful sunburn and her hair was starting to frizz. Wiseman was well aware of a mild skin condition that she had that caused dry skin and also made her more prone to sunburn. Although it didn't usually interfere with her work and they had ointment to treat and prevent any burning, it did make enjoying a summer's day difficult for her. It wouldn't be long before the sunburn would get worse and she'd get irritable and even borderline delirious. As if she realized that he was thinking of that, she nearly snapped at him, "It's not just because of the sun, Wiseman. We don't belong at this place."

"I know how you feel," Trigger said with a scoff. All eyes turned to her and she looked around at them, realizing what she'd said. "I mean that I don't blame you for wanting to leave. Hell, the rest of us hate this shithole and we have no choice but to live here." Although she gave a halfhearted laugh at her own comment, the rest of them just looked at her with some sort of sympathy. She cleared her throat and awkwardly shifted, nervously running a hand through her hair. "Anyways, I second Húxiān's question. How'd your phone call go?"

"Well, I couldn't get ahold of the base commander, but I had a chat with Long Caster," Wiseman replied. Trigger was, obviously, the only one who didn't know who that was, so Wiseman explained, "He's our AWACS. The base commander also lets him help make some decisions with the squadron, provided he consults with everyone and whatnot. Anyways, they're sending up some pilots that have been on standby to intercept us and provide escort just in case. The base commander wants us to be back at New Arrows by tonight to go over the intel we collected."

Fencer immediately perked up. "Alright, we're going home!" he said eagerly. "God, I've missed my own quarters." It was odd to see Fencer chomping at the bit like this. Like Húxiān, he was usually more serious and only got eager and energetic in the sky. Even then, he was still one of the more cool-headed pilots. Wiseman blinked, giving him a stern look and he immediately settled down. "Sorry, sir. Trigger said it herself, though. This place is a shithole, so can you blame us for getting excited about being back at our own base?"

"He's got a point, Wiseman," Jaeger spoke up. "I get the feeling we've overstayed our welcome a little." Looking over at Trigger, he said, "Not that you weren't good company, of course. We're all just getting a little homesick. Besides, I'm sure my wife and son are a little worried that I haven't called in a while. I don't want them to think something bad has happened."

"Just settle down, now," Wiseman told them gently. "I told Long Caster that we'd be leaving after lunch. That gives us time to prep for the return trip. McKinsey was nice enough to lend us a hand with supplies so we aren't in trouble if we run into Mr. X again. Everyone got that?" Húxiān, Fencer, and Jaeger all murmured in agreement. "Great! Let's go get some chow, then!" Wiseman said as he clapped his hands together, his grin returning. Everyone immediately jumped up and headed out of the hangar, with Húxiān giving Trigger a friendly pat on the back on her way out. Unfortunately, Trigger had to stay behind, still not allowed to eat thanks to McKinsey revoking her food privileges. Wiseman stayed behind and Trigger looked at him with a curious expression. "I spoke with Full Band and Bandog. And I think I now know why you weren't doing well in the air today."

Trigger looked at him and blinked in surprise. "Sir?" she asked him, seeming to be at a loss for words. Her face showed some reaction, as if she knew what they must have told him. Wiseman quickly explained everything that he'd learned about her, and she barely seemed to care at all. Her reaction wasn't what he was expecting. She wasn't defensive, nor was she jumping at the opportunity to brag. Trigger just stood there with a blank expression, looking as if there was some sort of mental block there that was keeping her from reacting in any other way. Finally, she found her voice again. "So, McKinsey told you why I'm here and Full Band explained why Count and the rest of the squadron aren't speaking to me, right? So why are _you _here, talking to me like I'm just another pilot?"

"I mean, I'm not gonna hold the actions of a desperate, kind of messed up country against someone who wasn't even born at the time it happened. I'm not prejudiced against Belkans, so you don't have to worry there," Wiseman replied, hoping his words were of some comfort or reassurance to her. "I guess I'm here because I wanted to hear your side of the story. The one that explains what you're doing here. Why did you kill Harling?"

Now she got defensive. She visibly tensed and glared daggers at him. "I didn't kill Harling," Trigger answered sharply. The tone she used was mostly that of frustration rather than anger at Wiseman. "The whole thing was…well I think it was one big accident. Either way, I didn't kill Harling. If I did, then it wasn't on purpose." She looked up at the squadron's F-15s as she spoke, and seemed to calm down within a matter of seconds. "I wouldn't kill another Osean unless it was absolutely necessary. Harling didn't have to die, but he did, and I don't know if it was my fault or not because I had a lock on a UAV, not Harling's bird. The military needed a scapegoat, that's all."

Wiseman nodded. "Okay, well I guess that clears that up," he said slowly. Truth be told, he didn't peg Trigger for the murdering type. Maybe a little too aggressive, but he could let that slide for the time being considering where she was and who she had to serve with. "And what about your Belkan heritage? You know it's entirely possible that they knew about it before you did and it made you an easy target."

"Oh, believe me, I've been considering it ever since I found out." Trigger crossed her arms and let out a huff of annoyance. "I didn't know about that, either. I knew my dad had Belkan heritage, but I didn't know who he was or what he did. I didn't think my entire family was Belkan, either. But it's not like I'm running around shouting 'hail Belka!' or whatever the hell they're doing nowadays." Her shoulders slumped, making her a lot shorter compared to Wiseman. She almost looked like a frail, underfed teenager with the way her posture was. Noticing Wiseman was now staring sympathetically at her, she drew herself up and cleared her throat. "But that doesn't matter, now. I'm paying for my own sins and the sins of my father up in this dump. So, really, why should I care?"

"I'd care," Wiseman said with a nod. "But I wouldn't let it eat me up for too long. I mean, you're still alive, so you must have done something right." She managed a small, half-smile as she gave him a grateful look. Wiseman returned the smile and took a step forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Look, no promises, but I can try and make some calls for you and get your case looked into a bit more. I've got a good feeling about you, and I'd hate to see you rot in this place. But…on the off chance I don't succeed, it was nice flying with you. You keep working on your flying and maybe someday we'll meet again, eh?"

Trigger looked at him for a moment, something that looked close to hope in her eyes. "Yes, sir. I'm gonna hold you to that, y'know?"

"Well, I kind of expected that," Wiseman said with a soft chuckle.

* * *

Author's Note: _This was originally meant to cover Pipeline Destruction as well, however the chapter got too long and I had to split it in half. So as a treat for being so patient with a lack of updates, you get a double feature!_


	16. Destructive Tendencies

Chapter Fifteen: Destructive Tendencies

|…|…|…|

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**July 20th, 2019.**_  
**1500hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Naomi frowned as the familiar roaring of jet engines faded into the distance and she lost sight of the four F-15s. Cyclops Squadron was gone, and so were the only allies she had left around the base. Pulling her gaze away from the sky, she noticed a pair of her fellow inmates smoking with one of the guards. They saw her and muttered something to one another before sending a glare her way and returning to whatever it was they were talking about before. Naomi put on a blank expression and took a deep breath, shoving her hands into her pockets and turning to enter the hangar that now housed Spare Squadron aircraft once again. There was no trace that the LRSSG pilots had ever been there.

Count's Flanker was parked next to Naomi's F-2, and Tabloid's Mirage was tucked away in the very back, barely visible unless someone were to turn on the lights in the dingy hangar. Full Band's F/A-18 was parked in a similar manner on the opposite side of the hangar. And just as she expected, on each of their tails, the reminder of their crimes was still there. It was practically mocking them every day. Naomi stared distastefully at her own plane, lingering on the three sin lines across her personal emblem and the Osean flag. Count, Tabloid, and Full Band were lucky. They each had only one sin line for minor crimes that they wouldn't tell her about, likely because none of them cared enough to. She could probably guess what they were, though, just from the little she knew about them.

She continued to stare up at her plane before the sound of uneven footsteps alerted her to the arrival of another person. Naomi turned her head towards the open hangar doors and saw the familiar form of her cellmate, limping and carrying a toolkit in her hands. The slightly older woman set the box down as she stopped, shifting her weight off of her bad leg and placing her hands on her hips. It seemed that she didn't notice Naomi standing there, so she tried to slip away unnoticed, but Avril's dark brown eyes flicked towards her the second she tried to move out of sight. "I know you're there, dumbass," Avril said flatly, a hint of her usual smirk on her lips. "If you were trying to be sneaky, then congratulations, you already failed."

"Hilarious." Naomi ducked underneath her wing and slowly walked towards Avril, eyeing the plastic box on the ground next to her before looking back up. "I kind of wanted to be alone right now."

Avril raised an eyebrow, the only sign of any concern that Naomi got from her. After a moment, her expression softened to one of what could be considered pity. "Tabloid told me what happened," she said after a while. "About…well, everything, actually. That, _and_ Count's pretty good at stirring shit up, so word spread around base fast. As you can tell."

Naomi flinched and looked down at the ground. Tabloid had been distant ever since the confrontation with Count and the others. At first, Naomi thought that he'd hang around, but instead he began to join Avril in the hangars and actively avoid Naomi. Bandog began to shun her, and Count went back to hating her guts. Full Band was the only one that seemed interested in remaining on good terms with her, probably because he was convinced that she was like her father. Convinced that she was something that she never wanted to be.

A part of her blamed herself, although she knew that it wasn't really anybody's fault. And yet at the same time, she still was upset with her family for lying to her. Roland and Samantha knew. Her mother — quite obviously — knew. And her father…of course. Naomi hated herself for not noticing it sooner. He was Belkan, that much she knew, but she never thought much of it. Her entire life, she'd grown up in Osea. And now everyone but Full Band seemed to think that she was some sort of monster with no good reason behind it. Had the world really become so hostile and fearful towards Belkans? Is that why her father hadn't told her that, not only was he Belkan and a mercenary, but he became a terrorist following a flawed ideology? Naomi didn't know the reasons behind her family's decision to hide that part of their lives from her, but she found it hard to stay mad at them. As much as she wanted to be mad at them, to hate them, instead she just hated the circumstances under which she'd come to learn of this.

Warily, she looked towards Avril, only lifting her head slightly to get a clear look of her expression. Naomi furrowed her brow, scanning Avril's face and eyes for any sign of hatred or fear. There wasn't anything there. Well, no more than usual. Naomi straightened up, crossing her arms. "So…if you know about my 'interesting' heritage, then why are you here?" she asked, tilting her head to one side curiously. Avril blinked, taken aback by the question. It was the first time Naomi saw her look even mildly startled by anything. She didn't answer the question, and Naomi clenched her jaw. In hindsight, maybe that wasn't the best way to ask her. If she wanted to be alone, that was a good way to drive someone off. Quickly, she added, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out that way…er…kinda. But, why are you here? I thought McKinsey gave you the day off for fixing up the Cyclops planes."

"He did." Avril said simply. She nodded towards Naomi's plane, her smirk returning and her eyes glinting in a mischievous sort of way. "But that doesn't mean I have to take it."

"I'm a little confused," Naomi admitted. A day off at the penal base was a blessing and all of them jumped at any opportunity they got for rest, so the fact that Avril turned down a day that McKinsey willingly gave her off was perplexing. "You turned down a day to just lay in bed and do nothing to come outside to fix up a bunch of lowlifes' planes?"

Avril forced a chuckle. "I mean, not much of a bed, really," she replied. "And I spend enough time in that cell as it is. I needed to stretch my legs and it's not like any of you keep your planes in good condition. Work's never done around here." With a soft grunt, she began to limp towards one side of the plane before coming back around again and stopping next to Naomi. "You smell that burnt smell?" Naomi took a deep breath and then nodded, screwing up her nose. It smelled like someone was trying to cook rubber and tar. It kind of burned and it surprised Naomi that she hadn't noticed it before. Avril grinned and clapped Naomi on her shoulder. "Well, that is why I'm here."

Naomi stared at her. "Uh, what?"

"Well, that burnt smell says something about your flying style," Avril explained with a surprising amount of patience as she began to look around the rear of the aircraft. Naomi wasn't used to Avril being so civil towards her. Avril continued, and Naomi listened to her intently. "You see, that smell comes from an engine being pushed to its limit. Now, I saw your flying earlier today and it mostly speaks for itself." The mechanic turned and crossed her arms, pausing to give her leg a break. "You're a hotdog."

"Excuse me?" Naomi let out a snort at the word Avril chose to use. She knew what it meant, at least with the context she had, but couldn't help but find the mental image that it provoked somewhat amusing. Naomi grinned, chuckling slightly. "I mean, I know what you mean, but 'hotdog'? Really? Couldn't you have used a better word?"

"No," Avril said, looking a little confused by Naomi's reaction. It was as if someone was told that they were a hotdog every day, even if they weren't talking about food. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking back at Naomi's plane. "As I was saying…you've already trashed one plane, and I don't want my hard work going to more waste than it already is. You keep up your ridiculous flying and I'm gonna have to keep a closer eye on you, dumbass." She looked at Naomi out of the corner of her eye before once again giving the plane her full attention. "Anyways. You need all the help you can get in the air, so I've decided to give your plane some of my magic touch."

Naomi nodded, not entirely sure what she should think. It seemed the oh-so-mighty Scrap Queen was coming down from her throne to mingle with the commoners. It was a bit of a harsh comparison, but Avril was extremely standoffish and Naomi wanted to know why — especially with Naomi's family history out in the open — Avril was suddenly so interested in helping her. She could understand Avril giving Tabloid a hand, since they'd formed some sort of a friendship (if you could call it that), but Naomi was another story. Although she was grateful, she was also suspicious of Avril's motives. "You know, it's not that I don't appreciate the offer," Naomi said slowly. "I really do appreciate it, but why do you want to help me?"

Avril didn't bother even looking her way as she crouched down beside her toolbox and opened it up, revealing an assortment of different equipment, only a few of which Naomi recognized and knew how to use. "First off, I wasn't offering anything," Avril replied as she pulled out a wrench and set it on the ground beside her. "Believe it or not, I actually talk to more people around here than the anarchist and McKinsey. I had a chat with that Full Band guy and I kind of agree with him. In a weird way, at least. The moron has a good point." She finally looked back at Naomi, wearing a look that was hard to decipher. "If we keep getting attention from above thanks to you, then the top brass might actually start to give a shit about us. And if you crash your plane into the ground, well…you can imagine what happens to the rest of us. _And_ with the way you fly, you need all the help you can get."

"Well…" Naomi bit her lip and looked over her plane. It wasn't too damaged from their last sortie, but you could easily make out where she'd taken a hit from one of Mr. X's missiles, as well as where a bolt of lightning had hit her plane. It wouldn't interfere with much, but it wasn't a good idea to leave it unfixed either. She wanted to monitor Avril, to make sure that she wasn't being played and that her plane wasn't going to blow up the second she got in the air with it. Looking back at Avril, she studied her for a moment, searching for any cues that might give away a lie. But there wasn't anything. Aside from the mostly indifferent expression and lazy body posture, she seemed like a normal person. Nothing to hide. "Alright, then. If you want to, then go right ahead. However, I want to give you a hand."

"Fine by me," Avril replied, tossing a tattered pair of gloves Naomi's way, followed by a slightly rusted wrench. Naomi caught both with ease and Avril gave her a look that said 'not bad'. Grunting in pain, she brought herself back to her feet. "But until we're done, you're gonna have to follow my lead. So how about this: If I trust you, then you trust me. I need to know you're not gonna screw anything up. Deal?" She held out her hand and raised an eyebrow. Naomi hesitated, weighing her options, before she finally took a step forward and shook her hand. Avril cracked a small smile. "Great. Let's get to work."

As they started their work, Naomi couldn't get rid of the nagging curiosity she had. Why had Avril suddenly decided to lend her a hand? If Avril knew what everyone else did, then why would she want anything to do with her? They went on in silence for a few minutes before Naomi finally broke the silence. "I've got a question for you, Avril. If you don't mind, that is."

"Okay. Shoot."

Naomi took a deep breath. "If Tabloid told you why Count was pissed with me and the reason why everyone's avoiding me, then why did you come here?" she asked. There was a soft shuffling sound as Avril suddenly stopped what she was doing and adjusted herself, perhaps taken off guard by the question. Naomi paused, waiting for a reply, but none came. She continued, "I mean, you have to be a little uncomfortable, being around a Belkan I mean. Especially…well, considering what my dad attempted to do."

She heard Avril let out a huff of exasperation. "No offense, but do you think I actually give a shit about that?" Avril asked her. Naomi was surprised by the response, as well as the lack of any extra hostility in her voice. There wasn't any more annoyance than there usually was. With a sigh, Avril went back to her work, explaining herself as she did, "I was never invested enough with history to care what the Belkans did, anyways. I heard about it, since every country insisted on fearmongering after the Belkan War. But I don't hate Belkans for stuff that was probably out of their control for the most part. Why should I waste years hating people that I don't even know? Not worth it, I tell you. I've got more important things to focus on and be angry about."

Her tone said that she was half-joking, but Naomi failed to see the humor. She knew that she should be grateful that her cellmate was finally starting to warm up to her, but she still felt uncomfortable with her own heritage. "Okay, I've got another question for you," Naomi said, using a lighter tone in an attempt to make herself and Avril feel a little more at ease. If she didn't sound harsh or accusing or anything similar then maybe Avril might loosen up a bit. "So, I had no clue about my dad's past. They hid it from me. So, if you were in my position, how would you feel? Like, if you find out that your family lied to you your whole life and now you have to just get over it?"

"Oh, I'd be pretty pissed," Avril answered, scoffing. "But we never had secrets in my family, so I can't relate. I'd say it's reasonable to be mad, though. In fact, wrenching away on planes is a great way to relieve anger, let me tell you."

Naomi chuckled. "Well, I can see where you're coming from," she said. It was Avril's term to chuckle. "You know, it's weird. I want to be angry, hell, I am angry…but not at Belkans or my dad, if that makes sense." Avril didn't say anything, going quiet once again. Naomi continued carefully, mostly to herself than to Avril, "It's kind of weird, actually. I want to be mad at my parents, even at my brother and sister, but…I just can't. Maybe it's because I don't know if I'll make it out of this shithole alive, so there's no way of knowing if I'll ever see them again. I don't know…"

"I guess I can understand that to some extent," Avril replied distractedly, not seeming to care much about the emotional weight of anything Naomi just said. In fact, she seemed unaffected by just about everything going on around her. Naomi found it a bit odd that someone who seemed in a constant mood wasn't at all bothered by everyone else being in a mood. Avril did pause for a moment as if gathering her thoughts. "I mean, I can understand feeling guilty for being mad at someone. I used to feel the same way, but hey, it's their own damn fault, right? It's not like you can help how you feel about it." Naomi didn't answer her, finding herself wanting more context. _So what happened to you?_ Naomi couldn't help but think, but she kept it to herself. Avril quickly grew uncomfortable in the silence and cleared her throat, "If you want, then I can help you out if you ever need it. I'm not exactly one for 'friends' or whatever and I'm not too great with moral support, but I guess we have a higher chance of survival if we stick together."

"Pfft. Maybe so," Naomi replied, wiping some sweat from out of her eye as she got back to work. "I might take you up on that offer. We are roomies after all."

Avril stopped working and moved around the aircraft so that she could look Naomi in the eyes. "However, that offer only stands if you can manage to do one thing for me," she said seriously.

"And what's that?" Naomi asked curiously, shifting her weight onto her other leg so she could quickly moved away if she needed to. Getting smacked by a wrench wasn't how she wanted to go out, but even she knew that it was a little paranoid of her.

"Don't trash the damned plane," Avril answered with a smirk, quickly turning and limping back to her work station. "In other words, don't lose another wing, don't crash it into the ground, maybe actually clean it once in a while. You know. Stuff like that."

"Listen, Scrap Queen," Naomi said with a grin that Avril couldn't see. "You've seen the way I fly, haven't you? You and I both know that I can't make any promises."

"Well then at least try your best, dumbass," Avril answered. The last comment was met by laughter from both women as they went about their work and their conversation. Avril was a lot different from what Naomi was expecting, figuring she was as cold on the inside as she was normally. It seemed she had warmed up a little bit. Naomi figured that, maybe, just like Count and Tabloid and Bandog, there was a lot more to the Scrap Queen than met the eye. And Naomi was learning to be fine with that, since everyone around this base seemed to have their secrets.

* * *

**Artiglio Port, Erusea.  
****_July 22nd, 2019._**  
**1000hrs**

The morning started off normal enough. The guards came to wake them up and they were sent to a briefing, where McKinsey made it very clear that he was taking advantage of Wiseman and his squadron's absence. After explaining their mission, they were sent off to the hangars to prep for the mission, and from there on out they were en route to Artiglio Port to take out Erusea's fuel supply or something along those lines. Naomi wasn't paying much attention during the briefing, focusing instead on how she would manage an attack of this scale in her tiny little F-2. Avril had equipped the plane with LASMs, since it would mainly be a ground operation, and reassured her that the upgrades would help her out (along with a very stern warning not to trash the plane).

As Spare Squadron approached the port in a mismatched formation of planes as usual, several targets appeared on Naomi's radar. And she had visual on several oil tanks and ships. From the looks of things, they were in a target rich environment and the job they had was simply to blow everything up. Naomi chuckled, thinking of Champ. She didn't like the guy, but he knew how to blow stuff up. That was about the only thing he was good at. Although she felt bad for thinking it, she figured she'd make up for it by thinking out loud and sharing her thoughts with her estranged squadron. "You know, Champ would have loved this mission," she said to them with a soft laugh. "I mean just look out there. He'd have had a blast. Literally."

Full Band scoffed, braking so that he was beside Tabloid in the back of the formation, among the safety of the other planes and not one of the first to head into the battle. This left Naomi and Count to take up the front, leaving the rest of the squadron to cover their wing. Once he was settled in his new position, Full Band sneered, "Yeah, but the second any trouble shows up he'd be outta there. Champ went down crying like a baby. Honestly, I knew he was all bark and no bite. Pfft. The coward…"

"You're one to talk about being a coward after running off with you're tail between your legs like you did!" Tabloid snapped at him suddenly. It surprised Naomi how upset Tabloid sounded. Usually he was the laid back and friendly one of the group, but he must have been set on edge ever since the confrontation in the hangar. Naomi wished she could at least patch things up with him, if not with Count and the others, but it just didn't seem possible. He probably needed more time to cool off.

"I wasn't running away. I was retreating!" Full Band said quickly, not saying much in defense of his abandonment in the heat of battle. It was as if saying that he was retreating was enough of an argument or justification. Or he didn't think he did anything that required justification.

"Well, I can't really say I blame you," Tabloid said in a softer tone. "It was hell out there. Wasn't it, Trigger?" Naomi was surprised that he bothered addressing her, but she didn't get an opportunity to respond as they came closer to the port. Tabloid sighed and spoke again, "Well, here we go. This oughta be fun."

"Man, I am not in the mood for any of this shit today," Full Band spat, throttling forward alongside the rest of the squadron as they all began to select their first targets. "I'm gonna blow stuff up to let off some steam." Now that Full Band mentioned it and now that they had an opportunity to put it into practice, Naomi realized that this was actually a great way to relieve some pent up anger and still do her job. Maybe it wasn't the best idea, but she didn't have any other choice. Just take it out on the oil tanks and AA guns. Simple.

Everyone else in the squadron seemed to instantly cheer up as the radio chatter began. They finally had an operation where they were encouraged to be disorganized. The simplest task in the world: just fire a bunch of missiles at random targets and blow stuff up. _Ah well. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em I guess,_ Naomi thought as she switched to her special weapons. The Erusean oil tanks were all lined up in nice, straight lines. If you took one out and if you were lucky, then a chain reaction would start and the ones next to it would be taken out by the explosion. She tested this out, firing an LASM and switching to a tanker docked nearby. As soon as the row of oil tanks burst into flames, Naomi grinned and took out the docked ship, circling around the port to find the next target.

Count finally said something, having been quiet for the entire morning. "Well, target in sight," he said. With a whistle, he went on, "A lot of oil tanks around here, but the boats aren't warships. A lot of random buildings, too." It almost sounded as if he was questioning the order in some way, or hesitating to engage. Naomi craned her neck to get a visual on the rest of the squadron, but all the smoke from the destroyed oil tanks made it hard to see them. She finally saw Count gun down a SAM site before pulling up to take care of the enemy helicopters buzzing around.

"Destroy everything in sight," Bandog ordered them, having also been quiet up until that point. "Surely that's an easy concept for you lot to grasp?"

"You know, I appreciate the simplicity of the operation, Bandog. Really, I do," Tabloid said as he joined Naomi in circling around the port for the prime targets. "But…they don't look like military."

"And you think _you_ look anything like military?" Bandog asked him. Tabloid didn't answer. "Well, you don't, but that's not going to stop the enemy from attacking you. Continue with the operation and blow it all to pieces."

It seemed as if their AWACS was enjoying the show as the convicts went about their work. Spare Squadron's cheers and whoops over the radio told Naomi that the convicts were also enjoying their task. Naomi did find that it helped her some, but it wasn't long before she got a little bored by it, just letting missiles fly and hit their targets. The only thing making it difficult were the Erusean fighters that responded to the attack. No one else seemed at all bothered by the enemy getting in their way or by the easy targets, though, as one of them shouted, "Haha! Another one's popped! The show's truly started now! Take this!"

"Damn! Now that's what I call fireworks! Haha!" Full Band cheered as he and Naomi both fired at two oil tanks that were side by side, pulling off in different directions as the rest of them ignited and followed suit. The massive explosion took out a nearby AA gun, taking care of another threat to the mission. She could practically imagine the grin on his face as he said, "Burn, bitches!"

One of their wingmen suddenly sneered at them, "Are you guys all nuts? And here I thought at least one of you was sane!"

Naomi narrowly avoided being struck by a missile from a SAM site as she took it out, then moving onto the oil tank next to it. As expected, another chain reaction. It just kept going on and on, but there was some mild satisfaction in the destruction. Scanning the area and her radar, Naomi saw that the other Spares were focusing their attacks on the oil tanks and enemy aircraft, not paying much attention to the tankers out at sea that were attempting to make an escape before they suffered the same fate as the other ship that was stuck in port. "Hey, Tabloid, do you want to give me a hand with the tankers?" she asked him, although she didn't know if he'd actually agree to help her.

"Yeah, sure, I'll give you a hand," Tabloid answered and broke off from the others to form up on her wing. There were three ships, two of them further out. She let Tabloid go first, diving and firing two missiles to destroy the first one. Naomi switched from her regular missiles back to her special weapon and fired at the second one from a longer range. Together, each one firing one missile, Naomi and Tabloid took care of the third one without any trouble. "Well, their cargo's just fish food, now. Nice work, Trigger!"

"Appreciate the help!" Naomi couldn't help but chirp. It was the most civil that he'd been to her in several days. It was kind of nice to have someone watch her back again, but she knew that it would only last a few minutes before he'd split off again.

Bandog's voice came over the radio again, sounding more than a little disappointed. "I've got some bad news," he said. "The megastorm Inessa 2 that formed a few days ago is approaching our AO. There's not much time left, so hurry up and finish your work if you want to stay out of solitary."

"No time to smell the roses, then," Tabloid said with a wistful sigh. "Well, let's hurry it up. Shouldn't be too hard, right?"

Count snorted at that, strafing a set of oil tanks before climbing up to watch the show. "Tell me about it. I mean, a fighter pilot needs to fight. Missions like this are too easy," he said, his comment similar to what Naomi was thinking earlier. "It's like watching a fireworks display. A lot of fun, but really, what do you get out of it?"

"Burn, baby, burn," another one of their wingmen said as Naomi took out a SAM site that was giving him a trouble. Then, out of nowhere, he said, "Trigger, you're just quietly plugging away! You think you're the only sane one here?"

Naomi sighed, not sure at first if she should answer. Honestly, she probably was the only sane one. Everyone else would probably beg to differ. "Well, actually, not really," she replied, mostly talking to herself. "I…actually question this entire squadron's sanity, myself included at this point." With that, she used her machine gun to take care of an enemy helicopter that refused to let up on her. She didn't get a response from the pilot that spoke to her, and she didn't know who he was, either. Not that she really wanted to know who he was.

Tabloid let out a scoff as he watched the scene unfolding around him. "You know, just look at us. Bandog was right. We're no proper military."

Full Band let out an irritated sigh as he pulled away from a chimney that he'd taken out. "Enough with the holier-than-thou act, Tabloid. It's not like you're the only one who's realized this."

"You kidding me, Full Band? I _belong_ in the penal unit." Tabloid let out an incredulous chuckle. "And Trigger, you belong here even more than I do!" She tried to focus on her job and not the conversation around her, but at the mention of her name she couldn't help but flinch a little. Naomi didn't like talking about why she was in the penal unit, although recently it seemed everyone wanted to bring it up as often as they could. It was like she was the new convict all over again.

"Well, it's all about where you're from," Count sneered. Naomi gritted her teeth as he added in a dark tone, "Isn't that right, Trigger?"

Naomi didn't reply as the squadron continued to fly in at a low altitude, hit the targets and then climb and circle around for another run. There wasn't any order in what they were doing, and Naomi knew Tabloid had a good point. They weren't a proper military. They weren't even close to it. And Bandog made this clear to them several times. Why did Tabloid act as if it was some groundbreaking discovery? Bandog interrupted the chatter, not that they seemed to mind. "Inessa 2 will be arriving in three minutes. That's all the time I can give you."

"Shit!" Full Band spat. "We're out of time!"

"He just told us we had three minutes, Full Band," Naomi replied, trying to add a bit of humor to the situation. "That's not exactly out of time." She heard Count groan, while Full Band and Bandog both stifled a laugh. The rest of the squadron ignored them and continued to bomb the port.

After a few moments of silence, Tabloid spoke up again. "Hey Trigger, I've got a question for you. Why do you think that this stupid war keeps dragging on, huh?"

"Here he goes…" Naomi heard someone say, sounding as if they'd talked to him about this before.

"Of course he'd ask Trigger about it," another one added. "I mean, her old man had pretty much the same ideas."

"Hey! Watch your mouths and continue the attack!" Naomi snapped at them, hoping that she sounded at least a little intimidating. Another touchy subject with her as of late, she didn't want anyone disrespecting her father. He wasn't there to defend himself, not that he could really defend what he'd done if everything she'd been told was actually true. And it seemed it was. Still irritated, she shook her head and scanned her radar for the next target. Most of the clusters were gone. She relaxed a little. "Sorry, Tabloid. I don't really have an answer to your question. I guess I've never given it any thought."

"Well I have," Tabloid replied, sounding more than a little annoyed. "And I think Solo Wing had the right idea. It's all because countries exist. Do away with them and our problems would be solved. You can't start a war over territory if the territory belongs to nobody, right? Well, shouting that and throwing a rock is what got me in here." Naomi didn't know how to respond, and she didn't really feel like it even if she did know what to say. To be fair, Tabloid had a point. Then again, countries did some good as well. It gave people a structure in some ways. At this point, Naomi didn't really know what to think. She loved her country, but they turned their back on her and threw her in with Spare Squadron.

Bandog butted into the conversation, "Yeah, well, you all have free meals and a warm bed. You should thank our good citizens." The remaining time they had left went by quickly. There was barely anything left, and Naomi studied the destruction almost with…satisfaction. Bandog also seemed pleased by their work. "Huh. Looking good, Spare Squadron. You made it just in time."

"Expect anything less?" Full Band asked, obviously not expecting an answer. He chuckled. "I'll take jobs like this any day."

As the squadron got into some sort of formation, Naomi saw the massive sandstorm heading their way. Bandog was right. They'd been cutting it a little close, though. "Megastorm Inessa 2 is about to arrive." There was a pause before Bandog spoke again, sounding more urgent and annoyed than before, "Hang on Spare Squadron, HQ just sent a message. It looks like some oil tankers loaded with oil got away. HQ saw them on satellite. Orders are to burn down everything that turns up."

Naomi was already making a mood, spotting three of them following after the others, just on the edge of the storm. She dove for them, switching to special weapons for the first two, figuring she'd go ahead and use that more than she had been. She was almost out of LASMs, anyways. It wouldn't be long. Naomi switched back to her regular missiles and waited for the tone that announced to her that she had a lock. She pulled the trigger and pulled away, assessing the situation before checking her radar for the next target. "Spare 15, target destroyed," she announced to Bandog. "The enemy's scattered through the storm. It's gonna be hard to find them all." In her mind, she added, If we flew through a thunderstorm, then this is nothing, right?

"Why are they popping on and off of radar?" Count asked, sounding bored with the mission and just as tired of everything going on. He probably wanted to get back to his cell and mope around like he'd been doing over the last few days.

Bandog wasted no time answering his question, "Sand clouds. The sand breaks up here and there and that's when the radar picks 'em up. If you detect something, then you need to strike fast."

"So just staring at my radar and trolling," Count said with a sigh. He was obviously irritated. Naomi felt bad for him, just as tired and ready to return to base as he was. "For the record, this is not my style."

"Whatever," Bandog snapped, no doubt tired of Count's attitude. "Even in sand, you can lock on if you get close enough."

"Really?" Full Band asked, pulling up over the storm instead of flying straight through it. It seemed he and the rest of the squadron were playing it safe, reluctant to dive into the sand and risk damaging their aircraft. At least, that was Naomi's theory. Full Band added to his question, "Are you sure you can trust that intel?"

"Pfft," Naomi snorted. "Easy for you to say, Full Band." There was a long silence after that. Naomi was carefully scanning her radar. Now was a really good time for her to put her photographic memory to good use. She flew alongside Full Band and Tabloid as she scanned her radar. If she focused on it then she could hopefully pinpoint their locations from the last time the radar picked them up. Wouldn't be easy, but it was the only way she knew with the sand screwing everything up. She sighed, watching as the radar finally picked something up. Naomi reacted as fast as she could, quickly diving into the clouds and flying in the direction it showed just as it disappeared. She flew along, fighting the wind until she was almost on top of the targets. The radar picked them up with no issue now, and Naomi got a lock, firing without any hesitation and taking out the two tankers below before climbing up, above the sandstorm, with the intention of resuming her search. "Hey, Bandog, I think I got two of them."

Bandog was quiet for a moment before he finally announced, "You're right, Trigger. Two tanker trucks destroyed." To the rest of the squadron, he added, "Just make sure you wipe 'em all out."

"Trigger got one already?" one of their wingmen asked. Naomi heard him laugh. "Alright, then! Take that!"

"Eyes like a jackal, Trigger," Tabloid said in a surprisingly cheerful tone. It was the happiest she'd heard him sound in a while. Apparently blowing things up really was a good form of therapy. He took on a more serious tone as he'd done earlier in the mission, "It's gonna be hard to sift through all of this sand."

Count let out another scoff, having been quiet for some time once again. "You guys do whatever you want," he said to Tabloid and Naomi, "I'm going off by myself."

"Fine. Okay. If you think that's for the best," Tabloid said, raising the pitch of his voice so that he would have sounded happy if not for the obvious annoyance at Count and his comment.

Naomi, on the other hand, wasn't comfortable with the squadron splitting up and getting scattered all over the place with the sandstorm going on. She wasn't happy with any of her squadron mates going off by themselves, even if she knew she couldn't prevent it. Taking on a softer tone than Tabloid had chosen to use, she decided to speak up, finally saying something to Count that wasn't defensive or hostile, "Count, I don't think that's a good idea. We don't know what tricks Erusea could have up their sleeves. I mean, they could be hiding SAM sites down there for all we know."

"Trigger, you're not the squadron leader, so stop acting like you care about any of us," Count said with a frustrated sigh. Naomi managed to catch a glimpse of his plane pulling away from the rest of them, heading off towards the north of the operation area. It wasn't long before he eventually dove into the sand cloud, informing the rest of them in a suddenly determined way, "I've got one on radar! Moving!" And just like that, the rest of the squadron followed suit in splitting off, scattering about the operation area just as Naomi had predicted they would. _Dammit, Count_.

Shaking her head, she went back to focusing on finding the targets, carefully flying back into the storm and making careful adjustments to keep from being blown into the ground by the wind. It reminded her of Yinshi Valley, minus the giant rocks and lightning. And rain. Maybe they weren't all that similar, but the wind wasn't on Naomi's side in either situation. It was starting to be a real pain. At this point, the only good thing it did was keep her from overheating at the penal base. On a good day, at least.

Finally, with no help from the wind, she got a visual on the next target. She got a lock and fired, but hadn't considered or even got a good look at the surrounding terrain and the missile went straight into the ground. Groaning with frustration, she pulled straight up and then pulled the plane all the way back towards the ground, the plane's nose angled straight towards the ground. She got a lock, fired, made sure the missile hit, and then pulled up in the nick of time. Tabloid confirmed her kill, "Nice one, Trigger! Spare 15 has eliminated a target!"

Bandog's voice came over the radio, but he wasn't egging them on like Naomi had come to expect. "Spare 2! Count! Where the hell do you think you're going?" Bandog demanded, and Naomi figured that he wasn't happy that Count had split off from the others. "You're approaching Erusean territory! Return!" It wasn't much of an order, since Bandog sounded more flustered and surprised by Count's actions than he did angry. Of course, it was still there, but Naomi was expecting him to sound more forceful than he did.

Count also seemed to notice the lack of aggressiveness in his voice. "I'm just following orders to find tankers," he replied as if he'd done nothing wrong. "So while you wait, why don't you just go chew on a bone?" Surprisingly, Bandog let him get away with the comment. Naomi knew she'd never get away with it. Unless Bandog just didn't feel like threatening him with solitary, in which case she felt a little better. Still, it wasn't fair that Count got away with being an ass and no one else did.

Naomi and Tabloid both went after the same group of targets, both easily destroying two out of the three tankers before Tabloid circled around to take care of the third. Bandog sounded a lot happier now that the mission was continuing. "Vehicle down! Heh. The rising smoke marks their graves."

"Nice sentiment, Bandog," Count said. Naomi could imagine the smirk on his face as he said that. Not that he wasn't ever smirking or scowling whenever he talked. He only ever smiled if it would piss someone off, and even then it was never genuine.

As the mission went on, mostly with Naomi, Tabloid, and Count taking care of the targets while everyone else struggled to search through the sand, everyone seemed to fall into an awkward silence. Full Band finally broke it by making an observation about the area. "You know, these bastards picked a hell of a place to hide," he said, chuckling. "It's nothing but sand and rocks. Come to think of it, it's not a bad place to build a prison, eh?"

"Hey, you're right Full Band," Bandog sneered. "And we can toss you in it as soon as it's up." Most of the squadron, Full Band included, laughed at Bandog's roast. Naomi kept quiet, although she did find it somewhat amusing. The laughter soon died down, and once again they focused on their work. That was, until Bandog's urgent voice came over the radio, "Dammit. Spare Squadron, a new enemy is approaching. Bearing 350 from the reference point." Naomi checked her radar to confirm what Bandog had told them. He was right, not that she really doubted him. They were likely aircraft, considering that they weren't disappearing from radar every five seconds like the tankers were.

"They're coming from the north!" Tabloid said, sounding concerned and frustrated all at once. "Did they pick up Count's aircraft?"

"Maybe so," Naomi admitted. Tabloid had a point. And Count _was_ flying extremely close to Erusean territory. "He might have tripped something while he was looking for tankers."

"Wait a sec! Don't go blaming me!" Count snapped at them, clearly upset that Naomi and Tabloid's first thought was of him. Not that it wasn't true.

Naomi finally got a good look at the approaching aircraft, and she growled in frustration. Drones. Of course they'd interfere with the mission. "Bandog, I've got a visual on the targets," she said, not bothering to hide the bitterness she felt towards the stupid little aircraft. "They're Erusean drones. Those sons of bitches just don't want to leave us alone. Dammit! It feels like they're always after us!"

"This doesn't change a thing. The mission stays the same: destroy the tankers," Bandog said to them.

Immediately, the prisoners began protesting the order. Full Band was the most vocal about it. "You're out of your mind, Bandog! There's no way we can chase the damn tankers now, they're coming!" Naomi, out of the corner of her eye, saw him roughly pull his plane around a drone, the missile it fired at him just barely missing him. He grunted as he pulled himself back together. "Argh! You see how hard it's gonna be?! A cat doesn't have enough lives to carry out your orders!"

"Just do your duty, and destroy the tankers!" Bandog snapped at them.

"This is Spare 15," Naomi said with a sigh. "Wilco." Although she was frustrated with the drones, and she was worried about how well the squadron would hold up against a fight with them, she knew that the faster she took out the tankers, the quicker they could go home. While the others hesitated, Naomi made a move for the last place she saw a target, switching to her LASMs so that she could get rid of them and attack from farther away. The second she got a lock she fired. One down. Then another. She wanted to go home, and she'd be damned if she was letting a bunch of worthless machines get in the way of that.

The rest of the squadron seemed surprised by her willingness to engage, and even more surprised by the destruction of the targets. While everyone else gawked at the sudden resumption of the destruction, Tabloid simply let out a hearty laugh that surprised Naomi, "Haha! Y'know, Trigger, I like your style!" Naomi didn't reply, not wanting to let herself get distracted, but she did smile to herself. It seemed Tabloid was starting to get back to his normal self.

Naomi's happiness was short lived, though. Just when she thought that the UAVs wouldn't be much of a handful this time around and she could actually focus on the main task, several of them got on her tail and stubbornly pursued her. She managed to evade their missile and just barely take out one of the tankers, but the missile warnings in her ear was starting to get on her nerves. That combined with the rest of Spare Squadron struggling with the UAVs (and one of them quickly getting shot down) was enough to cause even the most tolerant and laid-back person to start dealing with sensory overload. "Alright, you know what? I've had enough of this shit!" she spat, maneuvering with some effort to evade one of their missiles and get the three UAVs in her sights. Running low on missiles, she knew it would be hard to deal with both the surface and the air, but she didn't have much of a choice. She managed to take care of one of them before the second split off and the third was taken care of suddenly when Tabloid swooped into the rescue.

"Hey! The dumbass is at it again!" a member of Spare Squadron said, sounding a little too pleased. "Now's our chance to retreat!" Oh. That explained a lot.

"Have you idiots forgotten what happens to deserters?" Bandog demanded, sounding more and more pissed off by the minute. "I'll send you out to dig up landmines with your bare hands!"

Another one spoke up as one of their pilots ignored Bandog and withdrew from the area anyways. "Well I'm sticking around. You know why that political offender jackass is still alive, don't you?" Naomi knew he was talking about Tabloid. There was no one else they could be talking about, actually.

"Let me take a wild guess: Trigger?" Full Band asked.

"Yeah," the pilot replied. "Higher chance of living with her, even if she is freaking insane."

"Well, among other things," Full Band added with a chuckle.

Naomi couldn't help but grin a little, even if she wasn't on the best of terms with the other convicts at the moment. It seemed her original plan of flying like a maniac and blowing stuff up to get in their good graces was actually a decent strategy. And a fairly enjoyable one at that, if anything else. It did surprise her that the rest of the squadron seemed willing to follow her lead, even if they were doing their own thing. At least they stuck around and didn't retreat like the others had. She and Tabloid were doing most of the work with the UAVs, though, with Tabloid keeping track of how many drones had gone down. "Not bad, Trigger," he said to her. "You've got seven down so far. You might just get 'em all."

Bandog didn't seem to share their enthusiasm. "For God's sake, Trigger," he snarled at her. "Don't tell me you're taking out drones for your squadron now." Naomi didn't answer him as she scanned her radar for signs of the rest of the tankers. Bandog went on, even though she was only half listening and actually trying to focus on the task at hand, "They're not your friends. They're convicts just like you. Take a page out of their book and just worry about saving your own skin. You listening, Trigger? Target the tankers so that you can hurry up and get out of here!"

She took a deep breath. "Bandog, what do you think I'm trying to do?" Naomi asked him, glancing away from her radar and up towards the sky as if she expected to see him there or something. Of course, the AWACS was nowhere to be seen, as expected. "I'm trying my best to find the tankers, but the UAVs are getting in my way. If they go down then we can focus on the tankers. It's kind of a win-win strategy. Ultimately, we've still gotta get the UAVs either way, right?" She heard what sounded like Bandog huffing in annoyance but he didn't protest any further. Perhaps he knew Naomi had a point, or maybe he just realized that she was too stubborn to listen to him.

"This stupid mission has become way too dangerous," Full Band grumbled. Naomi looked around to see if she could spot him, but only Tabloid and Count were nearby, the rest of the squadron scattered around the operation area.

One of the pilots that stayed agreed, bitterly adding, "Damn Count for dragging us into this shit!"

"Shut the hell up!" Count immediately replied, sounding stressed out by both the mission and his wingmen jumping on him. "This has nothing to do with me!" Naomi saw his Flanker roll to evade a missile and then he pulled it up and around to take out the drone on his tail, followed by a SAM site that was uncovered. There were two tankers along with it. "Trigger, stop sitting there and gimme a hand!" he snapped at her as he flew in low and fired at the first tanker truck, pulling up to avoid crashing into the ground. The last one was left to Naomi, and she did the same thing Count had done. She lowered her altitude, waited for a lock and fired immediately.

However, just as the missile struck the truck and Naomi started to pull up, there was a loud burst followed by a bright, blinding blue light. Her plane shook and it took her a moment to regain her senses and control as she craned her neck to look back at the source of the explosion. One little tanker caused that? "Holy shit…" Naomi breathed out, grunting with the effort of pulling away from the ground and clear of the immediate shockwave from the explosion.

Tabloid and Count seemed to share her bewilderment and were stunned for a moment. "Huh?!" Tabloid managed to say. "What the hell?!"

"Hey, what was that explosion from?!" Count demanded. He briefly joined up on Naomi's wing, alongside Tabloid, as the three of them attempted to process what had happened. As if Count thought Naomi had any idea what it was, he asked her cautiously, "Uh...Trigger, what sort of missiles are you carrying?"

"Standard missiles, Count, what else would I have?" Naomi asked him, her annoyance at his absurd question outweighing her surprise from the explosion. Although still on edge from the unexpected reaction, she was able to get her head back in the game and studied her radar for the next targets._ No more surprises, please, _Naomi silently pleaded as she made a move for the next target near to her location. Then she heard the missile lock warning and was reminded of the UAVs. "Ugh…I really hate these damned drones…"

"If we go after the tankers, then our tails will be exposed," Tabloid pointed out to anybody who would listen. "You know what…actually, Trigger, I'll cover you. You focus on the tankers and I'll pick off the guys coming after you. That is…if you're up for some more teamwork?"

Once again, she was taken aback by his lack of hostility or indifference. Not that she didn't appreciate it. Naomi smiled. "Yeah…yeah, Tabloid. That sounds great," she said to him. Out of the corner of her eye, as she and Tabloid joined up and headed in the direction of the next targets (or where Naomi remembered seeing them on the radar) she saw Count pulling away from the rest of them, back towards the port where they'd come from. Apparently he wasn't in the mood for any teamwork. "Count, where are you going?"

"The weapon system's acting up," he explained in a monotone. "I can't fight like this, and it's suicide to even try. I'm gonna break off."

Full Band let out a scoff. "There he goes, running away again. And he's who drew the drones here."

"Pfft, say whatever you want, Full Band," Count said, back to his prickly self after going so long without insulting or snapping at somebody. Naomi was actually pretty sure it was a new record for him. About a minute without being a jerk. That sounded about right. Just before he was — presumably — out of range to talk any longer, he quickly added to Full Band, "Have fun with your new friends." And he didn't say another word for them. The rest of the squadron all grumbled in annoyance at his departure, many of them calling him a coward and an asshole. Naomi did feel a little bad. The rest of them had been ganging up on him a fair amount afte the drones showed up. He probably just got tired of being singled out.

Bandog didn't bother saying anything about Count's withdrawal, at least, he didn't object to it. Nor did he threaten any of them with solitary, much to Naomi's surprise. "Count's got a point, as much as I hate to admit it," he said to them. "You guys can't stick around forever, or else your planes are going to get damaged from all the sand. Hurry up and finish your work." There was a pause. "Hold on…we've got a target confirmed near Full Band. Dig around there."

"Well, that cheers me up," Full Band said with a bitter laugh. "Not that I give a rat's ass."

"You sound like you know somethin', Full Band," Tabloid pointed out as he finished downing a nearby drone.

Full Band chuckled. "Well, I do," he replied, and Naomi knew him at least well enough to know that he was smirking right now. "But I don't just give intel away for free."

Naomi bristled at this and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yeah, that's bullshit and you know it, Full Band," she snapped at him, although she didn't mean to sound so harsh. She wasn't necessarily wrong. If he really didn't give away intel for free, then Naomi wouldn't be in her present funk, having to work her way back up from the bottom once again. "You'll give it away for your own entertainment, so don't act like you're any good at keeping secrets." With this, she came across the next target. A SAM and a tanker. She took both of them out with ease, pulling up sharply as there was yet another bright blue explosion. "Shit! Hey, Full Band, do you know anything about that, huh?!"

"No…" Full Band muttered, but something told her that he could be lying. Who knew how much he lied about. Naomi grunted in frustration, gritting her teeth as she flew up from the storm to join Full Band and Tabloid among the swarm of drones that had suddenly moved in on their position. Naomi quickly downed one on Full Band's tail and gave him the opportunity to focus on his own target. "Jeez, Trigger, watch it! That came pretty close to hitting me, y'know."

Tabloid looked around at the remaining allies from the squadron that had come to their aid and broke off to help Naomi continue the search for the remaining tankers. "Wow, more people stayed behind than I thought," he said, clearly surprised. "I guess my strategy is working pretty well, eh? Stick with Trigger and you'll make it. That's how I'm still alive, anyways." It was Naomi's turn to be surprised, forgetting for just a second about the recent tension. He had that much faith in her? Was the rest of the squadron starting to share this? She opened her mouth to say something to him, but Tabloid suddenly shot in front of her before diving towards the sand clouds. "Trigger, two more tankers! Let's take 'em out so we can get back to base already, eh?"

At this moment, just as Naomi was brought out of her thoughts, she saw that Tabloid was right as two targets appeared on radar. She quickly followed Tabloid and within a few seconds the last tankers that Naomi knew of were nothing more than wrecks in the road. For the remainder of their time as they waited for more tankers to show up or for HQ to confirm that all tankers really were down, Spare Squadron began to pick off the drones with newfound energy and confidence. Finally, the confirmation they were waiting for came at last, with Bandog finally speaking up after a moment of silence on his end, "HQ sent a message. Those were the last ones. All aircraft, return to base. Burning up all of those tankers will starve their drones for a while and give our allies a chance to regroup. You did alright, Spare Squadron."

Everyone began to cheer and whoop over the radio, those that survived the sandstorm and the drones seeming shaken but nonetheless excited. "I'm still alive! Haha!" one of them laughed. "I guess Tabloid didn't have such a bad idea after all!"

"Yeah," Full Band said tiredly, still sounding pleased regardless. "'Stick with Trigger and you'll make it', eh? Worked like a charm." Naomi couldn't help but give a sheepish laugh at this, having some doubts in how well they would actually do if they continued to fly by that motto. Did she actually do any good, or would she just be a crutch to them in the long run?

Bandog obviously seemed to look down on the new phrase, quickly growling at Full Band, "If that's all you think you need to survive, you might as well get your last rites now."

"Exactly. That was all dumb luck," a new voice agreed with a sneer. Or rather an old voice agreed with a sneer. There was no mistaking Count's ever irritated tone.

"Wait a minute. You were actually in earshot, Count?" Full Band asked incredulously.

Naomi looked around, but he wasn't in visual range. He was probably already on his way back to base. She scoffed. "Yeah, he must've been straining to hear from high altitude. Knowing how massive his ego is and all that." The rest of the squadron laughed at Count's expense, and even Naomi smirked at her own joke.

Bandog, on the other hand, was far less amused. As the squadron started to head in the same direction as Count, he quickly turned his anger from Full Band to Count. "It seems you've learned absolutely nothing in the sky, Count," he said, and Naomi could only imagine what he was referring to with that.

"Well, yeah. It's not like there's anything I can learn from Trigger!" Count snapped in response. Naomi clenched her teeth together and bit back a response. She was tired of arguing for the day, especially with Count. Eventually, she knew she'd have to confront him though. If he kept acting like this, constantly out to get her, then the entire squadron would be screwed over by the two of them. Naomi was finally making progress, and here he was, hating her even more than he already did simply because of her dad. She wanted to fix it, one way or another.

* * *

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
**1623hrs.**

Count leaned against the hangar doors with a cigarette in his mouth, attempting to get his radio in working order. As he fiddled with the dials a little he finally got some static from it, the most progress he'd had with it since he started working. Checking around different frequencies, there was still no talking. Not even garbled, distorted speech. Short lived victory, then. He sighed, looking out at the runway as he took a drag on his cigarette. Outside, a few of the remaining members of Spare Squadron were having a cheerful conversation with one another about the mission. Trigger, Tabloid, and Full Band were nowhere to be seen. In fact, Count hadn't seen them since the debriefing. One thing he knew, though, was that Trigger was beyond pissed off. Most likely at him.

He turned his head to look inside the hangar where he saw the Scrap Queen going over their aircraft, muttering something under her breath. Noticing that Count was watching her, even if only for a little while, the mechanic glared at him with an extremely irritated look on her face. From all the way across the hangar, she shouted at him, "What the hell did you morons do to these planes?! They're full of sand!" Count didn't offer a reply, figuring it was mostly rhetorical anyways. If the Scrap Queen wanted an answer then she'd probably get it from Trigger or Tabloid. She and Count never really talked a lot anyways, other than simple things about aircraft repair or the state of the planes.

As the Scrap Queen (Avril was her name if he remembered correctly) returned to her work, Count carelessly tossed his cigarette out and returned the tools he was using as always, tucking the radio under his shoulder. Both of them were in silence until someone else entered the hangar and Count and Avril's attention was brought from what they were doing to the open doors. As expected, Trigger, Tabloid, and Full Band were standing there. Bandog was likely on his way, along with his mangy pet. Count tried to lay low as Tabloid and Trigger both greeted Avril. "Sorry about the planes, Avril," Tabloid said with a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting awkwardly. Count smirked a little at his wingman's awkwardness.

"Yeah, we couldn't really prevent it, what with the sandstorm and all," Trigger added, although without the smile or any real pleasant emotion. Although he didn't want to admit it, he did flinch slightly when Trigger's eyes flicked towards him and he was able to clearly see her anger at him. She excused herself from Tabloid, Full Band, and Avril and quickly walked over to Count. He played it cool, acting as if he was simply looking over his Flanker, but one look at the radio said otherwise. He hadn't cut it off and you could still hear the static. For a moment, once Trigger reached him, she said nothing. It was like she was looking for the right words. Then she went the indirect route, "I see you finally got your radio working."

"To some extent, yeah," Count replied, making it clear that he was just as upset and mistrustful of her as she likely was of him. He turned back to where he'd set the radio and flicked it off, crossing his arms and staring her down. Although Trigger was clearly angry, she didn't seem to have all of her thoughts together. She'd apparently come over to chew him out but was drawing a blank. Count let out a huff and raised an eyebrow, "What do you want, Trigger? Because I'd be happy if you'd go back to your little friends and leave me alone."

Trigger sucked in a sharp breath, struggling to keep a level voice as she asked him, "Why do you continue to leave all of us to fend for ourselves? You're Spare Squadron's self-appointed leader and yet you won't act like a leader."

Count scoffed. "The reason I'm the self-appointed squadron leader is because I'm the only one who has what it takes." Trigger bristled at this, but she didn't try and stop him from continuing. If anything, she looked as if she wanted to know more about his reasoning. Well, she'd be waiting a while. Count sighed. "Look around at us. It's like Tabloid and Bandog were saying. We aren't a proper military, we're just a bunch of cons that they tossed into some beat up planes and sent out to blow some crap up when Osea doesn't want to waste their resources. We're too disorganized and an actual leader, barking orders at us constantly would only slow us down. Besides, we've got Bandog for that. Me? I just get 'em riled up and ready for a fight."

"And yet you still try to give orders like you're in charge," Trigger retorted. Count rolled his eyes at her, but she only shook her head. "A real leader is exactly what we need. Everyone's getting picked off every fight because there's no organization. There's no teamwork, and our supposed leader — meaning you — won't do a damned think about it." She ran a hand through her hair, scoffing as she did this. "You know what, Count? Some day you're going to need someone to cover your ass, but because of this stupid 'every man for himself' mentality, you're not going to have anyone coming to your aid. And also, ever since I showed up you've been nothing but a pain in the ass, and now you're getting worse because what? Because my parents are Belkan? I didn't know about any of that! Why can't you make an effort to get along, huh?"

"Okay, first of all, brilliant speech. Really. It's inspirational," Count replied sarcastically. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool, wanting to act as detached and uninterested as possible so that she'd leave him alone. "Look, I'd be lying if I said that I trusted Belkans. I'd be lying even more if I said that I trusted any of the lowlifes in this shithole. The mentality that we all have is the only one that has kept me alive for this long, and I intend to keep it that way. If everyone else wants to die because they followed the oh-so-mighty Trigger, then let them. Eventually, nobody is gonna be left, and you'll be the first to go if you still have that stupid 'leave no man behind' attitude. Suck it up and get used to the way things are around here, and leave me the hell alone."

Count rudely shoved past Trigger, leaving her standing there processing what had just happened. He looked over his shoulder to see her returning to Tabloid and the others with a look he couldn't read on her face. He was getting real tired of her shit. She just showed up and acted like she owned the place. And why? Because she was an ace pilot's kid? Because she thought she was an actually decent pilot? Count clenched his fist as he made his way back to the cellblock. He worked like a dog to get the rest of Spare Squadron to acknowledge him as anything close to a leader, and Trigger shows up, stays for a few weeks and suddenly thinks she can preach to him about how to fly? And Full Band and Tabloid just forgot about him because of her. And now, they could just forget about her heritage? Count had said it before. She really was good at murdering people, and it wasn't hard to understand why.

As he finally reached his and Tabloid's cell, sitting down on his bunk and gritting his teeth in frustration, he decided then and there that he would do whatever it took to put Trigger back in her place. It was about time somebody did it.

* * *

Author's Note: _My apologies for taking so long with both of these chapters, but I hope you can forgive me._

_One thing is for sure, I never want to play Pipeline Destruction again, haha!_  
_Anyways, enjoy as always and the next chapter should be out soon!_


	17. Faceless Soldiers

Chapter Sixteen: Faceless Soldiers

|…|…|…|

**444th Air Base, Zapland**  
_**July 27th, 2019.**_  
**0600hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Although McKinsey gave them several days to rest following the success of their last mission, it didn't feel like it was that long. Their days had been short and boring, nothing eventful happening between them. Naomi was eager to get back into the air, but no one else seemed to share her enthusiasm. Not in the slightest. Her treatment from the other prisoners had improved slightly, though. She'd been helping Avril out in the hangars and Tabloid joined in, treating her a little better. He still seemed cautious and awkward around her, though. Full Band had done some more snooping with Bandog, but their AWACS finally put his foot down and told him that they were laying low for the next few days, so Full Band was left moping in his cell after that. As for Count, he'd been making progress with his radio, but hadn't spoken to Naomi after their confrontation.

All in all, Naomi considered it a decent week. Not something she'd want to repeat, since she was growing bored with the routine they'd all gotten into. Wake up, eat, find something to do that was either work related or just a way to pass time, clean yourself up, eat again, go to bed, and repeat. The squadron was due for some excitement and another mission. Osea seemed to be recognizing them as a somewhat valuable unit, at least that was what Naomi figured. It explained all of their recent operations, carrying out missions that really were just to test the waters for the regular forces. They were still shunned and treated like they were worthless, but they had something going for them. A part of her wondered if Osea even knew any of their names at this point or if they cared. Did their families know their fate? Would anyone know their fate or remember their names in the end? Who knows...

Naomi shook her head to get rid of the thought, bringing her attention back to real life. All morning, since before the others were up, Avril and Naomi had been working on her plane in the hangar. Bandog told them that McKinsey had a new operation and they'd be briefed and sent out early in the morning, so Avril arranged for them to get up early and do some last minute improvements to Naomi's F-2. They'd had their work cut out for them after the squadron's fight in a sandstorm, so they hadn't had time to do much work other than cleaning them out and making sure that they'd fly without crashing next time they took them up. It had been hard work, and now Avril was attempting to complete several days of work in the little time she had left. But the Scrap Queen could work miracles. That's what everyone said and Naomi had no reason to believe otherwise.

At last, Avril pulled off the gloves she was wearing and wiped some some grease from her face. "That should do it," she said, patting the side of the plane. Naomi, who was sitting in the cockpit to make sure there wasn't anything in there that needed maintenance, looked down at her with a curious expression. Avril ducked under the wing and walked around the aircraft to give it a quick assessment. Satisfied, she placed her hands on her hips and looked up at Naomi. "How's the cockpit looking? Your canopy is a lot nicer now that it's been washed off, let me tell you that."

"Everything's A-okay up here," Naomi replied, giving her a thumbs up without looking up from the different switches and buttons. She couldn't help but smile a little bit, finally looking away from the controls and down at Avril. "I'm touched by all the attention my plane's been receiving lately. Hell, so long as we don't fly through anymore sandstorms, this thing'll probably hold up for the next few operations without needing too many repairs after."

Avril rolled her eyes with a smirk. "Yeah, I wouldn't feel too special. Tabloid's plane has a little extra work put into it, too," she replied, glancing over her shoulder at Tabloid's Mirage. "Both of your planes were rickety as well, but I've done some tweaking to help improve stability and mobility. As usual. So you can keep pulling your dumbass maneuvers with little to no trouble." There was a pause as Avril took another look at the plane from where she stood, as if she was admiring her hard work. Huffing, she turned around and began to limp away to fetch something, warning Naomi, "And Trigger? If it doesn't hold up, then I'm going to hold you personally responsible and you can fix it yourself next time."

"I'll try and remember that. But, only because I don't like working by myself." Avril turned around to look at her following Naomi's response, one eyebrow raised and her mouth fighting a bit of a smile. Naomi grinned and went back to her work. They sat in silence for a few minutes before there was the familiar sound of footsteps entering the hangar. Both women looked up to see the lanky figure of Tabloid, looking more than a little tired and a bit nervous. Naomi's grin faded, but not so much that she wasn't offering a bit of a friendly smile to him. He'd still been awkward around her, even if things had improved since Artiglio. "Oh, hey, Tabloid. You're just in time to hear about the new repairs that Avril got done."

"Yeah, that's going to have to wait. At least until later," Tabloid said, looking to Avril with a kind and apologetic smile. He looked back at Trigger. "McKinsey sent me to get you for the briefing. He wants us there in the next five minutes or we're getting sent to solitary tonight." Naomi sighed as he said this, lifting herself out of the canopy. She slid down the ladder, hitting the ground with a sharp, loud click as her boots landed on the concrete. She started out the hangar, bidding Avril a farewell. Tabloid waved to Avril as he turned to follow. "We'll be back soon, Avril. And we'll try and keep the planes in good condition today."

Avril held up a wrench, almost as if threatening him with it, but her eyes shone with an unusual playfulness. "Right, you do that or else you're on your own for the rest of your life," she replied, her eyes falling on Naomi. "And if you think I'm kidding, just ask Trigger. She's already resigned to her fate. Well, pretty much, anyways." All three of them laughed at this as Tabloid and Naomi departed, leaving Avril alone to finish up any work she had left. The squadron would be leaving soon, and Naomi knew that it meant Avril had to finish any last minute repairs as soon as possible or get sent to solitary for taking too long. To be fair, they hadn't been locked up for a while, but things could change.

The walk from the hangars to HQ was short and spent in silence. Apparently neither one of them could come up with any decent small talk, so they just kept their mouths shut and focused on getting to the briefing without ending up in solitary. When they arrived, all heads turned to them. Bandog was standing at the front of the room with McKinsey, and as soon as Naomi looked at him he put on an almost guilty expression and turned away. Full Band shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Count said something to him. There was little reaction from the intel officer, and he seemed to be looking at Bandog with a strange look on his face. Naomi and Tabloid took a seat beside the two of them.

Naomi took McKinsey's moment of silence as an opportunity to ask Full Band why he was acting so weird. "Hey, Full Band," she whispered, leaning in so that only he could hear her. "Is something wrong? You and Bandog have been acting weird."

Full Band hesitated, squirming in his seat again before finally setting down. With a nervous look around the room, he leaned in and told her, "Just ask Bandog when the mission is over." Naomi looked at him, wondering what he meant by that. It sounded…weird. A little vague. Why couldn't she just ask him instead? Unless, of course, he had something going on after. He was probably planning more snooping. Who knew at this point. He turned his attention back to the front of the room as McKinsey cleared his throat and Naomi didn't say anything more about the way he and Bandog were behaving.

McKinsey's eyes scanned the room, settling on Naomi and Tabloid for a moment. The computer started up as usual, displaying a map of Usea and pinpointing several locations. McKinsey spoke up at last. "Now that we're all here, I guess we can go ahead and get started," he said to them, looking around the room. "So, it would seem that headquarters is starting to view some of you in the penal unit as a valid military force. I got a call yesterday about it. It's just what the rumors, but I still want you all to get it in your heads that that's bullshit. The only reason you're here is to atone for for your crimes by carrying out missions."

Someone scoffed. "Yeah," the pilot said with a dark chuckle. "All while you sit on your sorry ass and get medals."

Nobody moved a muscle or flinched when McKinsey looked them all over and finally got to the source of the comment. He pointed at the door, snapping, "_You_! Solitary, now!" The guards crossed the room and pulled the man out of his chair, dragging him out the door without another word or protest. McKinsey watched them as they left, waiting until the door was shut before he continued. "Okay, now onto the briefing." The map zoomed on the eastern side of the continent as it often did. "In this mission, you're going into Erusean territory. We know the Erusean forces' communications facility to the north in the Waiapolo Mountains is linked to the swarm of drones." Naomi studied the screen as it centered on the mountain range and showed photographs of the area and the radar sites McKinsey mentioned.

He continued with a reluctant sigh, as if the next words were hard for him to admit, "Your mission is critical. You will destroy the facility and then weaken those drones. As it's important, the enemy won't go down without a fight." The map zoomed out, displaying a 3-D square of the mountain range and illustrating its area of defense. "The area is watched over by spy satellites, if discovered, expect AA missiles. Unless you have a death wish, you must use the clouds for cover around the sides and base of the mountains. Use the clouds to hide from their satellites, and you just might have a chance to shake off their missiles." Suddenly, his usual smirk spread across his face as he wrapped up the briefing. "If you _do_ find a missile on you, head to the clouds and pray. Let the missile kill you, or crash into the rocks. That much freedom I will give. Now, dismissed. Go and get your work done."

Naomi stared intently at the screen before it shut off, carefully going over the enclosed area they'd have to fly in. It cut off, but she could picture most of the routes in her head. Now she just had to put them to practice. The squadron all stood up as McKinsey dismissed them, all of them heading out to the hangars with little enthusiasm. Naomi watched Tabloid and Count head out first, both of them glancing back as if they expected her to follow. Count said something to Tabloid and shook his head, continuing on his way with Tabloid reluctantly following. Full Band was talking with Bandog at the door, both of them wearing matching expressions of exhaustion and — for Full Band at least — fear.

As soon as Naomi approached them, their conversation ceased. Bandog cleared his throat and avoided eye contact as he walked away from the door and over to McKinsey to talk about something. Naomi didn't really care what it was. She was worried about Full Band. It was true, the two of them weren't exactly friends and Naomi was still holding a bit of a grudge against him after he got ahold of her file and spread around the base that she was of Belkan descent. He seemed to think of it as a source of pride, but Naomi wasn't happy with the information nor was she happy about the animosity it caused between her and the rest of the squadron. They all might be out for themselves, but Naomi still cared about what they thought of her.

Full Band was unusually awkward and quiet as he stood there, though. Without a word, he and Naomi left HQ and started towards the hangar with the others until Full Band finally spoke up. "Look, Trigger, I know I've probably been a pain in your ass, but I do sort of care about what happens to you and the squadron," he said, squinting as he looked up at the sky and the bright morning sun. Naomi didn't say anything to this, not entirely sure what _to_ say. "What I'm trying to say is that I didn't mean to cause any trouble for the squadron when I told them about your dad. I do believe that you've been the sole reason HQ is even giving us cons a second look."

Naomi scoffed. "Full Band, are you feeling alright? You're talking nonsense. I've already told you: I can't get you out of here. If I could, we'd all be long gone._ I'd_ be long gone."

"Right. After a couple of days here pretty much everyone feels the same," Full Band replied, and some light returned to his eyes. "Everyone's out for themselves, and I guess even you've got that way. But once you came here we started getting considered for more than just playing decoy. And, I guess there was some selfishness behind my snooping but I think everything will be alright after this mission. Bandog and I had a little chat a couple of nights ago. It won't be long now before we get out of this dump. I can feel it. And it's all thanks to you."

"You sound a bit dramatic right now, Full Band," Naomi said as they stepped inside the hangar, lowering her voice so that their conversation wouldn't echo and be overheard.

He shrugged it off. "Well, just wanted to make sure there's no hard feelings. Once we're free, I mean." Full Band held out his hand for her. Naomi stared at him for a moment, unsure how to respond. She was still mad at him, and what he was saying wasn't making much sense to her, but she would feel bad if she just brushed him off. How would she feel if something happened on the mission? She had enough guilt on her conscious as was. She didn't need more. With a sigh, she gave his hand a firm shake. He grinned. "That's the spirit. C'mon, Trigger. Let's get this over and done with."

"You're too enthusiastic," Naomi grumbled as his demeanor changed and he practically sprinted over to his plane and flight gear. She shook her head, making her way over to her own plane and to where Avril and Tabloid were talking. Silently, she added to herself, _Let's just hope you can keep your head in the game and not get yourself killed_.

* * *

**Waiapolo Mountains, Usea.**  
_**July 27th, 2019.**_  
**1011hrs.**

Spare Squadron made good time arriving to the mountain range. They all lowered their altitude and reduced speed, flying in their usual, strange formation. Count and Full Band took point, the rest of the squadron falling in behind them with Naomi and Tabloid taking up the rear. It wouldn't be long before they'd reach the target and their formation would break. Naomi was a little nervous having the altitude restriction. Technically it wasn't a restriction so much as it was a suggestion. They had to stay below the clouds and in the valley in order to avoid the missiles that would be fired at them if they didn't. The only upside that Naomi could find to the mission was that the scenery was nice to look at.

The mountains, although it was the middle of summer, were coated with ice and snow, likely from the altitude difference. Although they were at a lower altitude, there was still snow in several places. Below them were massive pine trees and a scenic river. Overall it wasn't a bad looking place. It was probably a nice place for a camping trip or a hike if not for the AA guns and radar sites they'd be running into. A shame that the Eruseans set themselves up in such a place, though. It was hell to navigate, and its pretty looks didn't change this.

After spending what felt like ages in silence, Bandog's voice finally sounded over the radio. "Spare Squadron, you'll need to be careful with your altitude for this. The enemy is watching from above, so stay in or below the clouds to keep hidden," he told them, going back to being direct and to the point. Recently he'd been more talkative, but it seemed that he wasn't in a good mood today. To be fair, he wasn't ever really in a good mood, so Naomi reminded herself to stop expecting so much of him. "That means no missiles. Even you lot should understand that."

Count was the first to reply with a dry laugh. "Pfft. Talk about an enclosed space."

"Well, Count, what's more enclosed than solitary?" Bandog challenged, making it clear to them that he wasn't in the mood for any of their antics that day. "Just commence the operation so we can all get out of here." Naomi kept her mouth shut, not wanting to get snapped at. It seemed that Count had the same idea, since he didn't respond when Bandog said this. It was odd that he wasn't trying to start something like he usually was.

Looking around to see how much space she had to maneuver, and adjusting her altitude ever so slightly so she wouldn't risk crashing into anything, Naomi picked up speed and shot ahead of the rest of the squadron. Just to show off and lighten the mood, she performed a quick barrel roll once she was in front of the squadron before she leveled out and made for the first target on radar. "Trigger, quit being a showoff and stay focused for once," Count said to her, irritated as always. Naomi only chuckled at this, saying nothing as she switched to her special weapon to get a lock on the radar site.

"That's your target," Bandog said as she approached, LASM at the ready. "Spare Squadron, be sure to destroy the anti-air weapons around it too." Naomi did as she was told, slowing down and angling the nose of the F-2 up just in case she needed to get closer. She fired, pulling away from the mountain the site was set upon and squinting to see through the clouds. Although she couldn't see it, the target disappeared from her radar and a few moments later, Bandog radioed them to confirm its destruction.

As the squadron split up, each plane taking a different path to find which routes led to the radar sites without any interference as well as which ones were dead ends. Naomi veered away from the side of the mountain as Count and Tabloid flew past her, targeting the two AA guns just around the corner. There were two more ahead of them. Naomi lowered her altitude and used her machine gun to take out one of them while Count got a missile lock on the third one and fired. The next target was on a higher mountain, but relatively easy to get to. AA guns surrounded it, though, each one ready to fire at any plane that got close enough.

Count voiced some concern, but his voice was surprisingly cool as he spoke. "What if the radar isn't under a cloud?"

"Destroy it," Bandog replied curtly. "And then scurry for cover if you value your life."

There was a sigh from Count. "I thought you'd say that…" he said, probably rolling his eyes. He always rolled his eyes, Naomi realized. Why, though? Her thoughts were interrupted as Count gained altitude, breaking through the clouds to get a regular missile lock on the radar. He destroyed it without any trouble and left the AA guns to Tabloid and Naomi, quickly pulling up and inverting his plane before diving back into the clouds and leveling out again, joining up with Tabloid and Naomi once again. For whatever reason he hadn't chosen the LASMs for his Flanker, choosing instead to go with the HVAA, which made no sense for a ground attack mission (unless he was simply being cautious) and also gave him an excuse to show off.

Bandog confirmed its destruction within a few seconds. "Radar site confirmed destroyed. You're all still under satellite observation, though, so watch out for missiles."

Another sigh from Count. "It feels like I'm being watched by a pack of Bandogs." Naomi laughed. He made a fair point, there.

"Say, you've been quiet this entire time, Trigger," Tabloid spoke up, a bit of amusement in his voice. "Do you like flying while being watched?"

"By the enemy or by Bandog?" Naomi asked as the three of them all flew in a formation through the mountains, trying to find the best route to take for their next target. Judging from the chatter she heard in the background, it sounded like Full Band had just taken out another radar site, meaning they only had two sites left if the map Naomi saw was correct. It was a pretty straightforward mission, actually. Destroy the radar sites and AA guns, then return to base. Simple as could be. There wasn't a response to her question though, save for a stifled laugh from Count and Tabloid, so she decided she'd give their ever grouchy AWACS a little attention. "So, Bandog, what's the importance of this mission anyways? Erusea hasn't really set up many defenses for their radar sites, so it can't mean too much to them and if it doesn't give us too much trouble then it shouldn't give the regular forces any trouble."

"Their missile guidance capabilities are spot on. Once they lock on, you can't evade unless you head to the clouds. We lost two reconnaissance planes from the regular forces just to get the information on it," Bandog explained quickly, perking up just a little bit now that he was being included in their little discussion. He still sounded angry, but it was an improvement. "We learned that the missiles are guided by a combination of the satellite _and_ the radar facility. So if the radar facility is destroyed then they lose their main method of guiding them and their missiles should stop hitting their target, since the satellite is more of a helping hand than anything."

It was Full Band's turn to interject, sounding as if he was in an equally sour mood all of the sudden. "Are you sure you can trust that intel?" he almost snapped.

"Who knows?" Bandog sneered. "Only one way to find out. That's why we sent you morons in. So if we're wrong, we don't lose any valuable pilots."

"Ouch, Bandog," Tabloid said in mock offense. "That's cold. We were starting to think you cared."

Laughter came from all of the pilots at the comment. Even Naomi laughed, though it was a mystery why she found it so amusing. Or why any of them did. The altitude must be getting to them, somehow, but that's what their oxygen was for. _Ah, well_, she thought. Bandog, however, was not as amused as Spare Squadron was. "Just shut up and continue the mission," he growled at them before going silent. The prisoners all shut their mouths, awkwardly chuckling or clearing their throats to catch their breath.

As Count and Tabloid took care of two AH-64s that were buzzing around their next target, it was Naomi's turn to fly above the clouds to get in range of the radar site. There was a faint beeping in her ear to warn her that the enemy was tracking her on radar, and Bandog shouted, "You're in plain view, Spare 15! Get back to the clouds!"

She ignored him and fired at the radar site, watching it explode. Naomi quickly pulled away from the target and back under the clouds just as the beeping turned into a loud warning that the enemy had fired a missile. The wind shook her plane as she flew through the clouds and back to safety, but it was holding up thanks to the repairs from Avril. Naomi grinned. "Well, target destroyed. Was that concern that I heard in your voice, Bandog?"

"Cancel alert…" he grumbled, neither confirming nor denying her question. "Radar site confirmed destroyed, however not all radar sites have been taken out. Their satellite is still in operation so hurry up and show the last one the same hospitality."

"Well, they sure aren't making things easy for us," Count said, targeting a warehouse and the AA guns around it.

"Dammit, they're making us do something, but just what?" Tabloid asked in frustration. It sounded as if he suspected Erusea was testing them. Not them specifically, but Osea and their air force. Or maybe he thought the top brass was using Spare Squadron for something other than decoys. He sighed. "It's a dangerous operation…but it's better than running through a minefield blind, I guess."

Full Band scoffed. "You're so naive, Tabloid. What we're doing is _exactly_ like running through a minefield blind. But if you're lucky, then I'll tell you about some of the intel I picked up. It'll save us from this stupid bullshit once and for all."

"Silence!" Bandog ordered before he could continue, but he didn't sound genuinely upset anymore. More like he was expecting Full Band to say something. "If you've got time to yap then you're not doing your job right. Hurry up and finish off the last radar site."

The intel officer ignored Bandog's order, practically taunting him as he told his wingmen, "Got in using a trick any amateur could think of." He chuckled. "Picked up a bunch of intel."

"Full Band, that's your second strike. There won't be a third." Bandog's warning was dark, but he didn't sound as if he genuinely believed the words he was saying. Naomi couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something was off. Her suspicion was confirmed as Full Band continued to ignore Bandog's warning.

"I got my hands on a password, and after some digging around I found a _bunch_ of stuff." Full Band continued as if Bandog hadn't just threatened him. Well, they didn't know that it was a threat for sure, but Bandog did have their lives in his hands. He could simply not give them vital information and let them crash and burn, putting it on the report as a simple malfunction or slip up and the higher ups would believe it. But that wasn't Bandog's style. Naomi wasn't sure that Bandog was a threat. He talked to his dog like she was his kid and opened doors for girls he liked. Not exactly the makings of a murderer. Then again, neither was Naomi. But she hadn't killed anyone in cold blood. And neither had Bandog. _Yet_, anyways...

"I'm not sure you understand what you're saying, Spare 6," Bandog said, lowering his voice to a snarl.

Full Band laughed it off. "I'll let you in on it when we're home, Bandog," he promised. It sounded as if he actually would do it, too. Apparently he had no secrets to keep. "I've said it before. In this war, intel is a life or death matter."

There was a pause as Bandog considered his words. "Hmm…I think you might be right," he muttered. Naomi swallowed hard and turned sharply to avoid the mountainside as she continued to search for the last target. The sooner they got home, the less of an opportunity Bandog had to do anything and the less opportunity there was for anything bad to happen in general. Maybe Bandog had finally snapped. Naomi knew he was ill-tempered, but she didn't think he disliked them that much. She took out a pair of AA guns along the way, breaking off from Count and Tabloid as they went their own way. "Spare 15, AA gun confirmed destroyed. Not bad, Trigger."

She found Bandog's praise a little odd. Full Band, however, piped up again in a much more cheerful tone, "You know, I'm starting to feel guilty about leaving everything to Trigger."

Bandog snorted. "In that case, use yourself as a decoy for the surface-to-air missiles."

Full Band chuckled, but then he cursed as he was forced to break off his attack on the AA guns to dodge a missile. "Shit!" Naomi had finally caught up with him and he narrowly avoided it, the missile whizzing by his wing just as he made it into the clouds. "Dammit, that was close…"

"The enemy sure is packing a lot of anti-air weaponry," Tabloid pointed out. Naomi checked her radar. He and Count were continuing to target the AA guns. They'd taken most of them out while the rest of their squadron was still struggling to navigate the mountain range.

"I know!" Count almost snapped. "I can't focus on attacking the radar site like this."

Naomi sighed, switching to her special weapons as she approached the last radar site. She got a lock and fired, switching targets to the AA gun beside it and taking that out for good measure. Both missiles hit their target. "There, Count," she said with a small smile. "Now you don't have to."

"She's right. All targets destroyed," Bandog replied, almost sounding pleased. "That's the last of the radar sites we needed to destroy. That probably put a stop to their satellite's missile guidance capabilities. Someone fly above the clouds."

"Hey, Count," Naomi said, already pulling up through the clouds. "How about you do it?"

"I like the sound of that," Full Band said with a laugh.

"You could do with the exercise," Tabloid put in.

The rest of the squadron laughed at Count's expense, celebrating the destruction of the radar sites and the fact that they could now fly freely above the clouds. Naomi noticed that she was actually the first to break through the clouds, followed by Count and Tabloid, then Full Band and the remainder of Spare Squadron as they all got back in their mismatched formation. Naomi performed a victory barrel roll, but Bandog was quick to end the celebrations as several blips suddenly appeared on radar. "Wait a minute. Hold it."

The anxiousness in his voice wasn't hard to pick up on. Naomi stayed silent, but Tabloid questioned the AWACS with equal concern. "What's going on, Bandog?"

Bandog didn't answer him as a formation of planes approached them, instead choosing to radio the newcomers, "This is the Air Force Base 444 Squadron. What is your affiliation?" There was no response. Naomi broke away from the squadron to meet the other planes head on, hoping to get a better look at them. It wasn't long before the rest of the squadron did the same. Bandog went on, sounding suspicious of the lack of reply. "Nobody told me there were this many nearby. Incoming allied fighters. Respond."

The fighters all picked up speed, maintaining their formation as they followed their leader. Spare Squadron was facing them head on, now, without a clue who they were. Count, perplexed by the sudden allied presence, suddenly scoffed. "This is weird," he said. "The regular forces don't want anything to do with the penal base."

There was the familiar beeping sound from whenever an enemy had a lock on someone. Naomi wasn't sure she was hearing things right, but her instincts were telling her that she needed to break, missile or no missile. One of their wingmen cried out in alarm, "Hey! They have radar lock!"

"But the IFF says they're allies," Count said as confusion and fear started to set in among the members of Spare Squadron.

"Hold on, now," Full Band said nervously. "Don't tell me they're barrier troops."

There was a long, rapid beeping as all eleven of the 'allied' fighters fired simultaneously. "Missile! Evade!" Count shouted at them, pulling away from their own formation to evade a missile. Naomi and Tabloid were the first to react, following their previous instincts to break formation and get away from the lock that was on them. Full Band was slower to react, barely managing to escape. Two of their wingmen weren't as lucky, stuck on the edge and too slow to evade, the missiles struck them head on and their planes fell to the ground in a fireball.

"Osean fighters, do not attack!" Bandog cried out in vain. "Shit!"

"Oh, shit! They're picking us off!" Naomi breathed out as she craned her neck to see what had happened, her eyes wide with fear. She turned her attention back to her own controls and began to fumble with them, shaking. Were they being picked off by their own allies? They were flying Osean planes, there wasn't any doubt about that. Naomi pulled a sharp turn and got behind the formation of F/A-18s. The same plane Full Band flew. So, there should be two people in the cockpit. She picked up speed and adjusted her plane so that she flew directly between two of the planes. It was just a brief look, but there wasn't any question about it. The cockpit was completely empty and on either side of the canopy there was nothing but two glowing red lines. "What the hell are these things? There aren't any pilots. Bandog, what the hell is going on?!"

"I don't know!" Bandog replied, clearly flustered by the events unfolding before him. "These guys aren't allies!"

"Are they spoofing our IFF?" Full Band asked. Naomi didn't say anything, too focused on surviving and on the actual allies they were losing. Another plane was hit as he'd tried to dodge the mountainside and a missile at the same time. It was nothing but chaos, their squadron spread out and apart with nowhere to really run. For some reason, they weren't given an order to retreat.

"Modern IFF connects to our strategic force via satellites. It can't be decoded!" Bandog countered.

"Besides, information regarding IFFs is top secret. There's no way they could make a fake!" Tabloid argued, but it clearly wasn't the time. Naomi ducked below the clouds and suddenly the beeping ceased. She let out a sigh of relief as Tabloid followed her, but that meant the rest of their comrades were still out in the open without any idea who was down and who wasn't. Tabloid announced their location and it seemed to give Bandog an idea.

"At this rate, no one's gonna make it out alive," he said, frustrated. "All aircraft head into the clouds! Get out of the enemy's sight!"

"Uh, and then what?!" Count demanded, following the order anyways. Full Band joined him, as well as the two other remaining pilots in their squadron. It was just as the rest of them got into the clouds that the enemy must have realized what had happened. But there were no pilots. How could they? The drones (there wasn't anything else they could be) followed them into the clouds. Count groaned in annoyance. "Goddammit! The enemy's working in coordination!"

"But — they couldn't…they…how?!" Naomi sputtered, not sure what to say. Her squadron was being picked off and there wasn't anything they could do. Hell, they'd probably all die out here with how relentless these new kinds of drones were. She pulled out of the clouds, not sure what else to do.

Tabloid was quick to follow her and called out to the others, "I've got a plan…it's a batshit crazy plan, but what other choice do we have? All aircraft, gather around me — gah! I mean Trigger!"

"What?" Both Naomi and Count asked him in unison. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Count probably couldn't either, but he wasn't very good at following anybody so the chances of him agreeing were slim. Naomi shook her head.

But Tabloid was more clever than everyone gave him credit for, ignoring Naomi and Count's surprise and continuing with setting up whatever idea he had. "Bandog! Can you register Trigger and the blips around her as friendlies and mark the others as hostile?" Naomi had to hand it to him, that wasn't such a bad plan. She realized what he was proposing, and perhaps the main reason he'd chosen her. She was the only one with three sin lines on her tail, and the easiest out of their squadron to identify. It was hard to miss the three, bright white lines standing out on the dark blue of her F-2. How had no one realized Tabloid was this quick thinking before? Even Naomi couldn't have thought about it. She was still trying to process everything going on at one time.

Bandog seemed to hesitate, weighing any other options before he finally agreed. "Sure."

"All right," Tabloid said quickly and determinedly. Naomi leveled out and braked as Tabloid's Mirage did the same, coming incredibly close to her wing. "All aircraft, form up on Trigger! Nice and tight!" She felt chills run down her spine and her excitement building as Spare Squadron approached the two of them. Two of their wingmen that Naomi didn't know the names of formed up on her right wing together, while Count joined up on her left wing behind Tabloid. Full Band took up the rear. She craned her neck, trying to get a look at them on either side. She looked to Tabloid's plane and Count's, able to see them both in the cockpit. Tabloid gave her a thumbs up before he called out, "Bandog, it's on you!"

Their radar displays were updated in an instant and Naomi let out a sudden whoop, hitting the afterburners and performing yet another barrel roll. She might have been borderline obsessed with those things at this point, but it didn't matter to her right now. At last, her goal to turn Spare Squadron into an actual squadron was as close as it would ever be. As Naomi leveled out, she pulled into a turn to avoid the mountain and all five of the remaining Spare pilots followed her in as close to a perfect formation as they could. They circled back around to the enemy head on like before, and Bandog asked one of the strangest questions, "Full Band, what's your location?"

"The tail end!" he called out, sounding as exhilarated as Naomi was.

"Understood." Bandog said with a little scoff at the end that might have worried Naomi had she not been so pumped at the moment. There was a pause as they got closer to the enemy. "I've sent new ID data. Enemies will be marked as enemies. Shoot them all down!"

Naomi grinned as she got a lock on the lead plane of the enemy drones' formation. "Spare Squadron, engage!" she called out as she fired. The lead drone went down and Spare Squadron's formation spread out into a straight line before they all broke the formation and took off after the drones. Naomi felt a rush of adrenaline as she turned after the next target, managing to hit one of its wings to slow it down and disable it while Count fired a missile to finish it off. It surprised her that he was so willing to follow her all of the sudden, but she wasn't going to question it. They were all finally working together like an organized unit and Naomi just wanted to live in the moment. "Nice kill, Count!"

"Righto," he said as he pulled away to assist Full Band. "Expect anything less, Trigger?" He fired a missile at the drone that was tailing Full Band before he joined up with Tabloid.

"Thanks, Count," Full Band called out. "That guy almost had me. There's no way I'm dying out here…"

"This is the penal unit," Bandog growled at him, "_I_ decide when you die." The squadron continued to tangle with the enemy drones without anymore losses, but Bandog suddenly sounded concerned again as he called out, "Spare Squadron, projectile incoming!"

"Bandog? There's nothing on radar!" Naomi pointed out with a grunt as she dodged an enemy missile.

"Tell us what's happening, come on!" Full Band cried out as he chased the plane on her tail down for her, the two of them pursuing the next enemy together.

"Goddammit, not right now!" Bandog snapped at them as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"_That_ doesn't sound good." Count put in quickly. He took out one of the drones with his special weapons. It seemed that him bringing along an air-to-air weapon wasn't such a bad idea after all. If Naomi brought it up then he'd just be even more smug than he usually was.

"Air contact incoming at high speed!" Bandog announced. "It's too fast to be an aircraft!"

Naomi released her flares and pulled up to evade an enemy missile. "If it's not an aircraft, then what is it, Bandog?" she asked, looking around for a sign of something, of anything.

"What do we do?" Full Band asked

"What's going on?!" Tabloid added in a frustrated and nervous tone.

Naomi bit her lip. She wanted out of this mess, and she wanted out of it without any more casualties. They had someone to rally behind, so maybe if she didn't panic then they'd stay at least a little calm. If they got too distracted by their own fear, then they'd all die. Count was keeping it together pretty well for the most part, and all of them were working together now. They just might get out of it alive. Maybe. Naomi got a lock on one of the drones, and she wasted no time firing at it. That was one less problem. She checked her radar. They only had a few left, and most of them were down.

Just when things were looking up, Bandog suddenly started a countdown. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One!" he said, sounding as on edge as the pilots were. "Here it comes!"

"Son of a bitch!" Naomi spat. There was a massive blue explosion like the one Naomi had seen from some of the tankers she'd destroyed, only much larger and much louder. It shook her plane and she could hear the canopy shaking from the impact, but she wasn't hit and she managed to pull away just in time. From the radio chatter, it didn't sound like one of their comrades was as lucky. Naomi grunted, worried more about Count, Tabloid, and Full Band than the others if she was being honest. Blinking a few times, she quickly looked around, getting a visual on all three of them as well as the only remaining Hornet in the squadron. "Is everyone okay?"

"Hrn…that shockwave!" Full Band grunted, still regaining his senses, but it seemed that he was okay. The same went for Count and Tabloid.

"Spare 4 is down!" the Hornet pilot said sadly, but they didn't have time to grieve. Naomi wouldn't be grieving. She didn't even know that the pilot that went down was Spare 4. She didn't even know they still had a Spare 4. Nevertheless, there was a moment of silence as the squadron went back to their attack on the remaining enemy aircraft.

Bandog was silent for a good while, not paying attention to their discussion or who was down. At last, they all heard his voice again. "Huh? Spare Squadron, incoming transmission from HQ!" he said urgently. "Their weapon is codenamed 'Helios'. It's a long-range missile carried by Arsenal Birds! They'll be firing again soon!"

"Wait a minute, Arsenal Birds?" Tabloid asked in disbelief. "I know Erusea got their hands on them, but they don't have that sort of weaponry!"

"Well, apparently they do now," Bandog retorted, but it wasn't as sharp as usual. Apparently he was actually focusing on his job for once. "Sending over the predicted impact zone! It's coming in hot!"

Count chuckled in spite of the situation. "Damn! You're working quick today, Bandog!"

"Get too chatty and you'll die," Bandog warned. They continued to fight until there was a different sort of beeping sound from the radar. It was duller than the usual warning Naomi was used to receiving. She checked it and there were several red circles and Naomi was right on the edge of one of them. So this was where Helios was going to hit next. One of the drones flew directly into the circle, and Naomi shook her head. There wasn't a chance in hell she was going to follow that thing. Bandog began his countdown again. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Impact!" The red circles on the radar turned a brighter color and flashed at the same moment a deafening rumbling was heard from the Helios missiles.

The Hornet pilot was unlucky enough to get caught in it, and Naomi had to ignore his pointless cries for help. "My aircraft's gonna break up! Help me! Help—" his transmission cut off and there was a trail of smoke visible after the blue light from the explosion cleared away.

"Argh! How can they fire like that when they've got allies in the airspace?" Tabloid demanded as he steadied his plane, barely missing a run in with the ground. "Don't they care about the pilots?"

"There aren't any pilots, Tabloid," Naomi reminded him. "They're drones."

"Even then, they must cost a fortune to manufacture." Tabloid said. Naomi couldn't argue with that. She took down one of the drones, leaving only five. Count was being chased by one and Tabloid was quick to notice the drone fire a missile. "Count! Missile!"

"Breaking! Chase 'em down!" Count replied, turning at just the right moment. The drone was slower to react and it gave Tabloid an opportunity to jump on its tail, firing a missile right into its wing. Unable to keep flight with one wing blown off, it spun out of control and crashed into the mountain. Count let out a victorious laugh as he and Tabloid flew alongside one another. "Now that's what I'm talking about, Tabloid! That was close! I owe you one!"

"Just be less of an ass and I'll call it even," Tabloid said with a tired laugh. Naomi, Count, and Full Band all laughed at this.

"Damn! Helios inbound!" Bandog called out.

Tabloid groaned in frustration. "We're screwed no matter what we do!"

"The hell do we do?!" Count growled as he pulled out of range of the Helios missile.

Naomi checked the radar. Four of them were left. She picked off the one she was tailing, leaving the other three to the remainder of Spare Squadron. Tabloid took his down easily, checking to see if Full Band and Count needed any help. They didn't, handling them with only a small amount of trouble. Full Band looked like he'd taken a hit, but he was still flying for the time being. The four of them got back in formation just as Bandog began his countdown. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One. All aircraft, scatter!" They did as they were told, quickly breaking away from one another and getting out of range of the next attack from the Arsenal Birds.

This time the missiles didn't claim any of them. Naomi looked around, making sure there were really no other survivors. It was just the four of them, but now there were no drones. They'd all be able to go home. At least, that's what Naomi thought before Bandog interrupted her silent celebrating. "Count, one to go. Go get him!" Bandog said. Naomi looked around. Where? She checked her HUD. No enemies. All allies. Had they missed one?

"One to go…where is it?!" Full Band asked, looking around.

"Bandog, where is it? I can take care of it," Naomi offered, feeling the sense of dread that she had earlier. She ignored it, though, continuing to look around.

"_Count_." The way Bandog said his name made it clear that the order was for Count and only Count. "Hurry up and finish him off!"

"Righto! This is it!" Count said as he pursued an aircraft. The same type that the drones were…and also the same type of plane that Full Band was flying. Naomi tried to get closer, to get a look at its tail and make sure it didn't have a sin line on it. But from the glimpse she saw it looked like it did. The Super Hornet climbed up in an attempt to get away from Count, but it was out of luck. Count fired, then pulled away to watch the rest of the show unfold. Naomi could tell he was grinning as he said, "Alright! I got the last one!"

Tabloid cheered and let out a laugh, and for a moment Naomi was about to join in, but one voice was missing. Instead of hearing Full Band joining in on the celebration, his voice was panicked and frustrated as he called out, "Dammit! Goddammit! Why does this—" His voice cut off and the missile warnings they heard in the background did too. The 'enemy' that Count had chased down blew up at the same time. It didn't take them long to figure out what had just happened.

"What?!" Count exclaimed. His tone was confused and angry at the same time. "Full Band? What the hell?!"

Naomi shook her head, pretty sure that her jaw was hanging open. "Shit! Full Band's down!" she cried out.

"But…didn't we get all the bandits?" Tabloid asked, sounding as if he'd just been hit in the face with a brick. Count didn't say anything. All three of them flew along in silence for a few heartbeats as they all tried to figure out what had happened. Tabloid was the first to realize it. "Full Band got tagged as an enemy…"

Count took up the front of the formation, leaving Naomi and Tabloid to follow him. He was quick to radio Bandog and let their AWACS know just how pissed off he was. "You did that on purpose, Bandog!"

"Did _what_?" Bandog sounded a little mournful and in shock, just like the rest of them, but there was no denying that it was his doing. There was no other way. Naomi put the pieces together. He'd warned Full Band all throughout their mission, and then he asks for Full Band's location in their formation. And only for Full Band's location. No one else could have done it.

"Don't play dumb!" Count snarled at him. "Full Band!"

There was a pause and Naomi held her breath as she waited for Bandog's response. At last, with a sigh, he told them bitterly, "It was an accident. It got out of control." Another pause. "Return to base."

"Son of a bitch!" Count spat at him, but turned back towards the base regardless.

The rest of the flight was spent in silence. Naomi knew what would happen from then on out. They'd all just forget about Full Band and the others they'd lost just like they did High Roller and Champ. They'd then add some of the other prisoners that had stayed behind from the mission due to either being in solitary or being a part of the ground crew to the squadron roster. But Naomi had a feeling that Count wasn't going to just take it, though. Full Band's blood was on his hands just as much as it was on Bandog's and he and Bandog would both have to answer for that.

Naomi studied the sky as they flew back to Zapland, finding an odd comparison. To Osea, they were as expendable as the drones were to Erusea. They were faceless soldiers, fighting a pointless war. They were supposed to end it. Naomi clenched her jaw. They had to do something.


	18. Aftershock

Chapter Seventeen: Aftershock

|…|…|…|

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**July 27th, 2019.**_  
**1505hrs.**

|…|…|…|

As soon as they'd arrived back at base, everything seemed so quiet. The ground crew, prisoners and guards alike, were chattering nervously to one another and eyeing the remaining Spare Pilots with unusual and unexpected sympathy. As they stepped out into the hangar, Avril was the first to approach them. Naomi was still stunned from the battle, Count was fuming, and Tabloid was looking anxious instead of cheerful. It wasn't hard for the mechanic to notice something was wrong. She limped over to them, eyeing their planes and scanning them for any signs of damage. At last, her eyes landed on them and for a moment Naomi thought that she saw concern on her face. She put on a poker face in an instant, crossing her arms. "What happened?" she asked in a level tone, looking between the three of them. "What happened to Full Band and those other dumbasses? It was a straightforward mission."

Count glared at her, looking back at his plane without a word as he and the others worked to remove their flight gear. None of them were ready to answer right away, so Avril just stood there. Naomi would have answered the question, but every time she went to open her mouth and say something, nothing would come out. Her mind was a blank, only able to replay the events of the mission from when the drones showed up. Tabloid didn't even bother trying to say anything. Count, on the other hand, was looking around the hangar with an almost murderous look in his eyes. When he finally did speak, it wasn't to tell Avril what had happened. It was to ask his own question. "Where the hell is Bandog? I know they landed before us, so where is he?"

"Why?" Avril asked, uncrossing her arms. Her poker face fell, and she allowed a look of confusion and worry to cross her features. "What happened?" Count let out an irritated huff, looking over at Count and Tabloid. Avril did the same thing, her eyes narrowing on them. Naomi looked down, able to feel Avril staring right at her. There was some annoyance in her voice as she sternly told them, "One of you better tell me what happened. McKinsey and Bandog came by just before the three of you got here and now everyone's acting weird." Naomi and Tabloid both glanced at Count, but Avril kept looking at the two of them expectantly. "Trigger? Tabloid? Something you want to say?"

"There…was an incident," Tabloid finally admitted, a look of guilt on his face. Quickly, before anyone could say anything else, he added, "It's all my fault, if anyone's to blame."

Naomi scoffed, staring at him incredulously. Even Count looked shocked by the statement. "Tabloid, that's bullshit! What you did saved our asses. We'd have never made it out like we did. _All_ of us would be dead," she said to him.

"And? Now most of us are and that includes Full Band," Tabloid argued, but he wasn't angry. "And I might as well have handed Bandog the murder weapon."

"Murder weapon?" Avril's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. "What the hell happened out there?!"

The three of them went quiet again. Naomi sighed and ran a hand through her hair, biting her lip as she thought through her response. At last, she took a deep breath. "Full Band was marked as a hostile by Bandog, and Count shot him down," she said, and Count visibly tensed. Tabloid flashed him a sad, borderline reassuring smile. Avril looked as if someone had just walked up to her and punched her in the gut. It was about how Naomi felt. She wasn't sure how to process the information. None of them were. Naomi stammered as she tried to explain more. "Bandog says it was an accident, but with the way that he was talking and the fact that Full Band was only hostile to Count…it kind of implies that he knew exactly what he was doing."

"It wasn't an accident," Count snapped at her. "And you know damn well it wasn't, so let's not pretend that Bandog actually cares about any of us." He shoved past her and started for the exit, likely heading to HQ to wait for their debriefing.

Naomi stared after him for a few seconds. She hated that Full Band and most of their squadron was dead. She hated that Count had been set up the way he had. And most of all, she hated that he was still happy to be by himself and separated from Tabloid and Naomi. They all needed to band together. The fact that they all found their motivation to fight and survive over Waiapolo and them forming up on her like that was evident. Count could deny it all he wanted to, but he'd get himself killed if he kept up that attitude. Before he was out of earshot, she called out to him, "Count! Count, wait a minute!"

But he didn't stop walking. He didn't even turn around. _Just like when he found out who my dad was_, Naomi thought, sighing as he slipped right out the open hangar door and disappeared from view. She was finding it hard to keep it together. To keep _them_ all together. She turned around to face Tabloid and and Avril, both with matching expressions of sadness. It was strange to see Avril displaying the emotion, but its likely she felt for Tabloid and maybe even Naomi rather than anything for Full Band. Honestly, Naomi could never tell if they all actually liked the guy or not. Avril didn't care for him. Count was indifferent to almost everyone, except for maybe Tabloid. Tabloid…he was even harder to figure out. He was nice to everyone, and he did seem bothered by what had happened.

She let out a growl of frustration, whirling around and slamming her fist down on a nearby tool tray. The sound echoed through the hangar and the chatter briefly died down as everyone curiously looked over at Naomi. Tabloid and Avril exchanged a concerned look before Avril limped forward to pull it away from Naomi. As if Naomi wasn't there, Avril immediately turned back to Tabloid. "I can see it's been a _very_ long day," she said with an exasperated sigh. "Why don't the two of you get to the debriefing before she breaks something or gets tossed in solitary."

"Right…probably a good idea..." Tabloid breathed out, taking a step towards Naomi. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Avril suddenly grabbed Tabloid's arm to stop him, indicating she had more to say. Tabloid raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Just…" Avril started, but she cleared her throat before she continued and straightened up. She quickly let go of his arm. "Never mind, it's not important. I'll talk to you guys later." As she started to limp away, she muttered to herself, "I just hope your planes aren't too beat up."

Tabloid shrugged it off, the ghost of a smile on his face as he turned back to Naomi. He put a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to finally stand up straight and recover from her miniature outburst. Her breathing was uneven and her hand hurt from how hard she'd hit the tray, but she was managing to relax a little. Tabloid studied her for a moment before he said anything. "Come on, Trigger," he said at last, turning her towards the door as he started to head out himself. "We should probably make sure Count doesn't kill Bandog. Not that I blame him for wanting to."

Naomi didn't say anything, reluctantly following him. She felt like she did after facing Mr. X in Yinshi Valley. She just wanted to collapse on the spot and go to sleep, feeling drained and like she was going to throw up. Not to mention the pent-up anger. Her thoughts were all over the place. They kept going through and summarizing the mission events, wondering what Full Band was talking about, trying to figure out why Bandog was acting so strange and what Full Band knew that was worth killing him over. Then she started to wonder why Bandog chose Count to carry it out. The most reasonable reason was that Bandog had been playing his ego in some way. Count wanted to be the best. He thought he was the best. Killing Full Band must have been a massive kick in the teeth.

As they arrived at HQ and entered the briefing room, everything was unusually quiet. There were two pilots sitting in the room along with Count. They were two that had stayed behind because they were locked in solitary. Naomi had no idea who they were, but with the way everyone was dying lately she bitterly thought that there wasn't much of a point to even try it. Besides, they seemed to know her pretty well. Her eyes locked on Count, slumped over in his chair with a look that Naomi couldn't read. He was scowling, as always, but there was a look of defeat in his eyes. It was like he was looking somewhere else. He wasn't looking for Bandog anymore, that was for sure.

A quick look around the room told Naomi that Bandog wasn't around. If he was, then Count must have realized that a smarter move would have been to let him be, otherwise it was solitary and a one-way ticket out of the unit. Not like they were an official squadron, but there were military prisons in Osea that would be happy to take him if he did something so out of line as beating up an officer. Of course, what Full Band did was out of line and it got him killed. Naomi started to fear for Tabloid and Count. What if Bandog wanted to kill them, too? What if they did something he didn't like in the air? Would it be that easy or did Bandog just have a bit of luck that day?

Naomi quickly took a seat next to Count, pressing her hand against her forehead. He glanced at Naomi and Tabloid as they sat down beside him on either sighed. "If you're going to try and calm me down then you should save your breath," Count said sharply.

"We didn't plan on it. We're here for the debriefing. That's all." Tabloid replied simply, not bothering to say anything else. Under better circumstances, he might have used a harsher, more irritated tone to make his response more of a comeback than a simple reply. Count probably realized this too, since he glared at him and took a deep breath as if to rein himself in.

Within a few minutes, no words spoken between the three pilots, Commander McKinsey marched into the room with a satisfied smirk on his face. Bandog followed slowly behind with a blank expression. Their AWACS looked at the three of them sitting together, quickly noticing as Count straightened up and clenched his fists. Almost guiltily, he looked away again, taking his usual place at the front of the room with McKinsey. The commander looked at all of them smugly before he simply said to them, "The mission was a success. Surprisingly. There's nothing else I need to say. Dismissed."

They all gave perplexed looks to one another before lifting themselves out of their chairs and making their way to the door, the guards standing beside it looking surprisingly friendly. Just before Count could exit, McKinsey called out to him, "Hold on, Count!" He stopped, and so did Naomi and Tabloid. Naomi was pretty sure that she was holding her breath as the commander approached them, stopping about halfway. Count looked confused as ever as he stood in the doorway. McKinsey gestured with the file in his hands. "It looks like your kill numbers are going up every day."

Count frowned, his fist clenching and unclenching. "What of it?"

"I just wanted to tell you that you know what happens by giving false reports. I don't doubt your credibility, but there is the off chance. You can never be too careful," McKinsey said with his usual smirk, giving Count a pat on his upper arm before turning away. "Anyway, you other pilots should learn from him. Now get lost." Count scowled happily turned away, pushing past Naomi and Tabloid. McKinsey returned to his desk and to Bandog. As Naomi and Tabloid turned to follow Count, Naomi heard McKinsey say with a dry laugh, "I'm getting the hell out of this dump, Bandog. And when I do, their kill count will make _my_ star shine brighter. The generals back in Oured won't be able to ignore me for much longer."

Naomi stopped after a few steps just to hear Bandog's response. Tabloid went on ahead. Bandog sounded less than pleased. "But you can't deny that you owe your success to Spare Squadron, then," he said. Now why was he standing up for them all of the sudden? He'd just killed Full Band and he was still pretending to care? Naomi started to wonder if Count had a point, but what if he really did care? Bandog went on, the sound of a stack of papers hitting the desk as he started talking, "We suffered heavy losses today. But, I did what you asked and silenced the threat or whatever you're calling him. Now, could you finally do me a favor and leave me out of your stupid problems?"

There were footsteps, but they reached the door and then stopped when McKinsey called out to Bandog. "You should be more careful with how you speak, Bandog. I'm letting you off the hook, but don't forget that you played a part in Full Band's death. Maybe now you'll be more careful about who you choose as your allies." Naomi was straining to hear the rest of the conversation, since McKinsey had the bright idea to lower his voice. "This war is going to come to a quick end, Bandog. Mark my words. Sooner or later, one or both countries are going to reach a breaking point. Remember that I'm doing what I have to do to bring that point along sooner rather than later. Maybe you should reconsider my offer."

"I'll think about it," Bandog gruffly replied before stepping out of the room. He slammed the door behind him and looked around, almost immediately noticing Naomi. His expression softened to one of mild surprise and he said nothing, but Naomi still felt like a deer caught in the headlights. She cleared her throat, gave an awkward wave, and then spun around to sprint down the hallway and outside. She looked over her shoulder, catching her breath and trying to see if Bandog had followed her, but he hadn't. He'd probably gone back to his room to check on Sarge or something. Naomi was safe from the threat of solitary. For now, at least.

The conversation kept replaying in her head. Over and over again. What were they talking about? What offer had McKinsey made for Bandog, and why didn't he take it? Did this mean that all of Full Band's snooping hadn't been for nothing? If that was true, then McKinsey really was a traitor, but it sounded like he was continuing to pit both countries against one another. It explained why Osea was catching up to Erusea, but how Erusea still managed to be one step ahead of them. The advantage still belonged to the enemy. But what about the other thing that McKinsey had said? Would they be leaving or would he be the only one getting transferred from the unit? Spare Squadron earned their redemption by now, at least, that's what Naomi would have thought. There wasn't any reason to keep them around with new leadership. They were as good as any regular unit. For a short time today, they'd even managed to work like a real squadron would.

Naomi managed to smile just a little recalling the event. The rush of adrenaline, the joy of having the squadron hopeful and abandon their 'every man for himself' mentality that caused the death of so many of their wingmen. But the speed at which all of the excitement faded into shock and grief. Had Count felt that? He seemed glad to have one-upped Naomi when he'd shot Full Band, but when he realized who it was he seemed as upset as she was. Not to mention the way that McKinsey kicked him in the teeth at the debriefing. His kill numbers went up, especially today, but only because he'd unknowingly shot down an ally. Losing a friend or wingman hurt. Naomi knew that. But having been the one to kill him yourself? Well…Naomi could understand that feeling.

Right now, she just wanted to put the awful day out of its misery. She needed to rest, to gather her thoughts and approach the issue in the morning. That was all she could do. Instead of heading back to the hangar to join Avril and most likely Tabloid as well, Naomi went straight for the cellblock.

* * *

_**July 28th, 2019.**_  
**0742hrs.**

The next morning, life around base seemed to return to normal. Naomi didn't like it. Everyone acted as she'd predicted, moving on from Full Band's death as if nothing had ever happened. The guards spoke amongst themselves, seeming reluctant to act harshly towards the remaining members of the squadron. Naomi was surprised by the change in their behavior in the course of less than a day. But that was all that was different that Naomi could see. Other than that, things were normal. Their cells were unlocked, they were called for breakfast, and they had work around the base after that. Avril woke Naomi up to inform her of this, but Naomi decided that she'd skip breakfast that day. Things just didn't feel right to her.

So while Tabloid and Avril headed to the mess hall, Naomi decided to spend some time alone in the hangar. The sun was almost completely risen at this point, and it was already clear that it would be another extremely hot day. She sighed, glad that she'd gone ahead and tied the front half of her flight suit around her waist. She'd found that it was the best way to help with the heat, since the prisoners had to wear them all the time. She envied Avril, who didn't have to wear extremely stuffy clothes all the time.

When Naomi reached the hangar, she was expecting it to be empty. A few guards and some of the ground crew were standing outside talking with one another, and they nodded to her as she stepped inside. There was a sudden thud as something fell to the floor and Naomi heard someone curse loudly. She was curious and hesitant at the same time, but eventually decided to approach the source of the noise. It was coming from over by Count's plane, so she could already guess who it was. Sure enough, Naomi reached Count's Flanker and found him sitting in the cockpit with a cigarette in his mouth and the radio he'd been messing with all month in his hands. And on the floor was the item that had fallen: an extremely large roll of duct tape.

Count set the radio on the ejection seat as he hopped out of the cockpit and began his climb down the ladder to retrieve the tape. He noticed Naomi as soon as he reached the ground. "Oh," he said, almost disappointed that she was there. Glaring at her, Count reached down and grabbed his tape before returning to the ladder. "I didn't know someone else was here."

"Neither did I, until a few seconds ago," Naomi replied, crossing her arms and tilting her head back to get a clearer look at him as he climbed back into the cockpit. "I guess you finally got your radio working."

"Yeah, you think?" Count asked, sounding irritated with her like he always did. Naomi frowned, having hoped that there was some way that they'd have made progress. But no. He was still an ass. As he leaned over to look for a spot to place the radio, tape at the ready, he called out to her, "If all you came out here to do was watch me and state the obvious, then you can just go somewhere else." Naomi rolled her eyes and climbed up the ladder, just high enough so that she could lean the front half of her body into the cockpit and see what he was doing. Count lifted his head and scowled as he made eye contact with her. "I meant go somewhere else as in leave, not invade my personal space."

Naomi shrugged it off, grinning slightly in hopes she'd put him at ease. "I'm only trying to help," she said. Taking a good look around at the controls and area that Count was sitting in, she couldn't help but grimace a little. "It's so cramped in here. I mean, the F-2 is pretty cramped, but where are you trying to tape the radio?" Count gestured to a spot just beside his left leg, kicking at it in case she missed it. If he put it there then he wouldn't be left with much leg room. She guessed that comfort wasn't his first concern. "Soooo, what exactly are you going to do with that when you finally get it where it's supposed to be? I doubt it'd be much use in a combat situation."

"It's plenty of use in such a situation. I can listen to music that makes me feel like a badass in a fight," Count said in a surprisingly light tone, almost smiling. Naomi perked up, chuckling at the comment. _That_ was progress. "You'd be surprised how many radio stations this old thing can pick up. Eruseans have pretty decent taste in music, I will admit that. I stayed up all night to finish it up, and I got to listen to a nice bit of jazz on one station and some classic rock on another."

"_You_ like jazz?" Naomi asked him in a teasing tone, raising an eyebrow. She noticed his cheeks turned a little pink at this, but he didn't say anything in his defense. Although she didn't want to ruin the surprisingly good mood he was in, she also wanted to talk to him about the battle the day before. She'd already asked Tabloid before breakfast that morning how _he_ was and Tabloid admitted that he was upset but he'd be fine. Naomi wouldn't be able to relax until she knew Count was, too. The three of them were the survivors of the entire ordeal, and Naomi didn't want Count to feel like he couldn't talk to them about it. Awkwardly, she turned the subject around to the mission. "Umm…so, you were up all night? Did you have a hard time falling asleep?"

Count visibly tensed, almost bristling. "A little. Mostly I wanted to get the radio done sooner rather than later," he replied shortly. After a pause and what looked like some mental debating, he added, "And I was kinda too pissed off to sleep. I'm still pissed off, but now I can take it out on the tape and this stupid pile of junk they call a plane…" Naomi scanned his face for any sign that he was hiding something and just didn't feel like sharing how he felt, but she couldn't find anything. He glared at her and asked cautiously, "Why do you ask?"

Naomi shook her head. "No real reason. I just…you seemed upset after what happened. I guess I was just a little worried that you weren't holding up all that well," she replied, not sure how else to put it. "I know that I didn't sleep well last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I just saw Full Band's plane explode. I feel a little responsible for what happened."

He scoffed at this. "Why should you? Our squadron doesn't have a real leader, and honestly it works out better that way. There's no one to take responsibility for those that go down. It's no one's fault but their own. It'll be marked as 'pilot error' or some bullshit like that," Count sneered as he squirmed in his seat to get the radio in the right position. "And if anyone should feel guilty or responsible for it, then it's me. I'm the dumbass that fired a missile at him, and I'm the idiot that didn't bother to check with anyone else before I fired said missile." He sighed and looked down, looking more subdued than he had. He removed his cigarette from his mouth and tossed it aside. Count chuckled darkly and continued, "I jumped on him like a rabid dog. If I close my eyes, I can see myself firing that missile and I can remember the exact moment I realized I screwed up. Our wingman is dead and it's _my_ fault. Not Tabloid's and not yours."

She paused and then slowly reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. "I…Count, there's not much I can say to make you feel better, but I'm slowly starting to figure something out," Naomi said, and Count looked up at her with a puzzled look on his face. She cleared her throat. "You remember how I said I had a debt to settle with that Mr. X pilot in Yinshi Valley?" He nodded. "Well, before the mission that got me sent here, we ran into one of the Arsenal Birds over Chopinburg Rainforest. One of our pilots, one of my best friends, was hit by a missile from a drone. She pulled out of the operation area, but Mr. X shot her down. I still blame myself for her death, because a little while before she died she called to me for support but like a dumbass I followed orders. She's dead because I didn't go with my gut to save her."

Count furrowed his brow. "What does this have to do with Full Band?"

"I'm getting to that, Count," Naomi sighed. "The point is that I'd never dealt with death like that. I was kind of a naive kid. I knew what death was, but it didn't seem like it would ever happen close to me. Now, a war breaks out and everyone I know is getting killed left and right. But, we can either mope around and blame ourselves or we can band together and grow stronger because of it. My old flight leader was far more personal and understanding after my friend died. Because he blamed himself. But like a good leader he knew that if he fell apart then the others would follow, so he stayed strong and as a result we were all able to mourn and move on with our work."

"And that's supposed to just make all of the guilt go away?" Count asked with a scoff, shaking his head. "Sounds like some bullshit to me."

"It won't make it go away. But if you want to be treated like a leader so badly, Count, then you're going to have to start acting like one," Naomi replied, keeping her voice level. "You can sit around feeling sorry for yourself and let the squadron fall apart along with you or you can find a better time and place to deal with your guilt. I'm upset about Full Band, too, but I'm going to wait until I know any grief I have won't interfere with my judgement and any anger over the situation can be put to good use." Naomi sighed. "Listen, Count. I know you don't trust me, and I know you're only out for yourself, but I'm tired of all of these bodies piling up around me. Put your anger to use in the air, instead of taking it out on the rest of us."

He narrowed his blue eyes on her, and Naomi wondered what he was thinking in that moment. It almost seemed like he was mad enough to punch her right then and there, but he didn't. Instead, Count took a deep breath and went back to his radio. "I hate to admit it, but…you make a good point, Trigger," he admitted. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and smirked. "Honestly, you're not so bad for a Belkan."

Naomi rolled her eyes and smacked his shoulder. "Osean," she corrected, but not in her usually defensive way. She knew that just then he was only messing with her. "But that wouldn't have anything to do with advice giving. I mean, wasn't there a famous psychologist or something that was Belkan?"

Count paused and shook his head. "Not that I can remember," he answered, looking over at her with a genuinely confused look on his face. "Besides, I don't really pay attention to boring shit like that. Who has the time for weird psychobabble when you're working with old radios and torn up planes?" He laughed at his own joke, and Naomi joined in after a moment. It seemed he was friendlier and in a much better mood than he had been. She couldn't help but wonder just how long it would last. How long it would be before he decided to not trust her again. Right now, that was the last thing Naomi needed or wanted. But thankfully, it seemed Count was starting to come around.

* * *

**1425hrs.**

Bandog sighed as he sat on his bed, hunched over and looking at his hands. At his feet, Sarge lay beside him, gnawing on her Kong chew toy, seemingly unaware of the amount of stress placed on him right now. The day before, he'd been responsible for the death of Full Band and he knew that it didn't make him any better than the prisoners he claimed to be different from. And not to mention the fact that he didn't want to do it. He might have gone so far as to say that he considered Full Band…well, not a friend. But maybe an ally. To be honest, he kind of missed Full Band's constant nagging to snoop around and the fact that the dumbass was confident that Bandog would still help him. Maybe it was because neither one of them liked McKinsey or the people at the base that much. There was a common ground.

He lifted his head to look across at the desk in his room. On it, out in front for the world to see, was a spare flash drive (nothing more than a copy of the intel Full Band gave to Wiseman) and Bandog's cell phone. With little effort, he pushed himself up off of the bed and took a few steps forward to reach the desk. He picked up the phone and turned it on, checking to make sure there were no missed calls from…well, anyone. Satisfied, he shut the phone off and stuffed in in a drawer, moving on to the flash drive. He examined it closely, thinking back to the conversation where Full Band had forced him to take it for safe keeping. Bandog scoffed and shoved it into his pocket before turning around to face Sarge.

The shepherd looked up at him curiously, tilting her head to the side with her chew toy still between her jaws. Bandog chuckled at the sight. Sarge could be pretty cute when she wanted to be. "Okay, you goofball," Bandog said to her, grabbing her leash. "You ready to go for a walk?" She immediately dropped her toy and jumped up, trotting over to him and sitting down. He clipped the leash to her collar and rolled up his sleeves, setting off for the door with Sarge following close behind.

Once he was in the hallway, he realized that he didn't know where to go from there. He could stop by the mess hall for a cup of coffee, but the more he considered that the more he realized that it was too late in the day for that. There wasn't anywhere for him to go to. The yards would be filled by now, but he could just take Sarge out to play a game of fetch on the runway or outside the hangars. But then there was the chance of running into some of the prisoners. He knew that, sooner or later, he needed to get what was left of Spare Squadron together and tell them his side of the story. He didn't want to face any of them. Especially Count. To say he was nervous would have been an understatement. They were still prisoners and something like what had happened could easily cause them to turn on him.

It was then that he made perhaps one of the dumbest decisions in his entire life. He made his way down the hallway and outside, then went on a search to find Spare Squadron. At least with Sarge there to back him up, they wouldn't try anything too stupid. Bandog could only cross his fingers and pray that they wouldn't kill him as soon as they laid eyes on him. Considering how pissed they were with him, it wasn't too unlikely. Sarge seemed to sense some of his uneasiness the closer and closer they got to the hangar. She brought her head around to look up at him, her tongue lolling out, before her nose brushed up against his hand. Most of his hand had her leash wrapped around it, but Sarge gave his knuckles a quick, comforting lick before she turned her head around again to watch where they were going.

Bandog managed a small smile. "Good girl," he praised. Sarge only shook some dust off of her coat and let out a huff, making no indication that she heard him or even cared. At last, they reached the hangar where Trigger, Count, and Tabloid's planes were housed. And as expected all three of them were there, along with the mechanic, Avril Mead. At first, none of them seemed to notice him. Count was doing something in his cockpit, while Trigger and Mead were talking with one another while looking over Tabloid's plane. Tabloid was halfway up the ladder that was pushed against Count's plane, his usual grin on his face (albeit, more tired looking than usual) as he said something to Count that made him respond by almost laughing. It wasn't until Bandog let go of Sarge's leash and she took off to greet Trigger that they all took notice of Bandog.

He stood there, feeling awkward and out of place as four pairs of eyes all locked on him with equally as furious looks on their faces. Even Trigger and Tabloid looked ready to kick his ass. Bandog was about to just walk away when Count hopped out of his cockpit, sliding down the ladder as Tabloid moved away. "What the hell are you doing here?" Count demanded, taking a few steps toward Bandog. Bandog stayed where he was, and Count stopped as soon as Trigger hurried over to him and grabbed his arm. He glared at Trigger for a moment, but she made it clear that she wasn't in the mood to argue with him. Count snatched his hand away and looked back at Bandog. "Let me guess, you've come to murder the rest of us, eh?"

"Pfft, don't be ridiculous, Count," Bandog said, rolling his eyes. "Stop being immature and jumping to conclusions." Count bristled, crossing his arms and scowling, but he didn't say anything. Bandog decided he'd address the only one he considered somewhat reasonable out of the group. He looked at Trigger, who — although was a reckless moron — would be the only one willing to listen to him. And if she listened, the others would, too. It was strange to Bandog. The underdog of the group, the runt that killed Harling, and yet she'd scratched her way to the top and gave Count a run for his money. Now Tabloid and Mead followed her example rather than Count's most of the time. "Look, I'm here to explain what happened. Trigger, I know you must want to know both sides of the story."

Trigger mirrored Count's actions, crossing her arms and scowling. However, it was clear by the flash of uncertainty in her eyes that she was considering it. At last, she looked around her companions and then down at Sarge, who was pawing at her leg for attention. Trigger kept a cold, disinterested expression as she finally came to a decision. "Alright, fine," she said, reaching down to pat Sarge on the top of her head, "But you'd better not be wasting our time."

"Yes, because it's so time consuming being a prisoner," Bandog retorted. All four of them gave him a warning look, so he figured he should hurry up with his explaining. But how would he start? He scratched the top of his head, nervously looking around before he ventured further into the hangar so that he was standing close enough for them to hear him without having to raise his voice. "Now, what happened…yes, I got Full Band killed on purpose. But hear me out, okay? McKinsey knew that something was off, so he did some digging around and found that Full Band was poking his nose where it shouldn't be. We found a lot of information a couple of nights before, all of it about some operation to a desert and McKinsey's plan to sell the information to the Eruseans. Well, McKinsey knew that I had some part in Full Band's information gathering. He told me I had a choice: I could get kicked out of the military and likely killed for espionage, or I could prove I was loyal to Osea and kill Full Band."

"So you murdered him in order to save your own, sorry ass?" Tabloid asked. He shook his head and let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, Bandog. Great story. That makes us feel a _hell_ of a lot better about the death of our friend." The other three all muttered and nodded in agreement.

Bandog let out a sigh of frustration. "That's not…entirely true," he said. They were making it hard for him. He didn't want to feel guilty, and he didn't like them talking down to him, but he was finding it difficult. "I went to Full Band after McKinsey told me that. Full Band wanted to make it seem like I wasn't involved in any way, so he devised a little plan. Someone would shoot him down, and he'd just bail out with a flash drive in his flight suit full of the information and all would be well, with McKinsey having no idea he wasn't really dead. But…apparently he didn't have time to eject. So now he's dead, and all the extra information went along with him. McKinsey got what he wanted. Full Band's dead and he thinks he's in the clear."

"He is, though," Mead pointed out. "You have no way of using the intel against him. It's gone."

"Actually, that's the only good thing about this," Bandog said, but he did second guess revealing the information in front of her. He looked to Trigger. "Before I continue, is there any real reason why Mead's here? It's not like she's officially a part of the squadron."

Trigger and Mead exchanged a look, with Mead picking up a wrench and gesturing with it. "Listen here, you ass," the mechanic almost growled. "I'm the only person that got these piece of shit planes to even takeoff, so I have just as an important role as you do. I mean, at least I do more than sit on my ass and yell at people. Oh! And get them killed. You have no idea how stupid that plan the two of you had was, by the way. Too risky. The chances of it working were slim." In an annoyed murmur, she added mostly to herself, "No wonder he's dead, now…"

Trigger looked back to Bandog, her arms crossed again. "Avril stays. She's as much a part of this squadron as any of us. I'd say she's earned the privilege of being in on our secrets. And, she makes a good point."

"Whatever you say," Bandog replied, staring doubtfully at Mead before he finally continued. "Full Band gave a USB drive to Major Wiseman before the LRSSG pilots left for their own base. The Major agreed to go over it and talk with his superiors about it, and he'd give us a call if something came up. I got a call from him, stating that he found out that McKinsey put in for a transfer and the General Staff Office was looking over our unit's performance. McKinsey is trying to get away, I just…have that feeling. If he really is guilty, anyways. But he doesn't know that Major Wiseman and I have copies of older information. I'm going to need you guys to understand that I'm trying to be on your side. I never thought I'd fall in with a bunch of lowlifes, but there's no other choice. It's for our own survival."

"Okay, hold on a minute. You insult us day in and day out, don't care about any of us, throw us in a box whenever we step out of line, kill our wingman to save your own skin, furthermore use me to kill our wingman, and you expect us to help you?" Count asked incredulously. The others looked just as disbelieving as he did. "I don't know what sick joke you're playing on us, but I don't want any part in it."

"Look, if you don't play along then McKinsey will throw every single one of us to the wolves and make out without even a slap on the wrist," Bandog snapped. "We'll be punished unless we play our cards right. And I can't do it on my own. If Full Band proposed this, you'd all agree to it. I know I'm not the nicest person, and to be honest I don't really like any of you, but we all want justice for McKinsey for some reason or another, right?" He looked around, and the others relaxed, all of them looking from one to the other. Bandog went on, trying not to sound like he was begging, "I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, but you aren't going to make it out if you don't trust me."

Trigger wore a thoughtful expression that quickly changed to determination as she looked Bandog right in the eyes. "Well, I have no idea what we're going to be doing, but if it means McKinsey getting what he deserves then…hell yeah! I'm in, Bandog," she said. "If Full Band trusted you, then maybe you aren't all that bad."

Tabloid and Mead joined in next, with Tabloid giving a firm nod. "If Trigger's in, then I'll help however you need, Bandog. Besides, if we stick with Trigger then we'll make it, right?"

They all looked to Count, who didn't look happy with the arrangement. "I want you to pay for Full Band's death, Bandog…but I want McKinsey to pay more. So…fine…" He stalked back to his plane, calling over his shoulder. "But don't think this means I forgive you or trust you, Bandog. Because I don't."

The five of them spent the rest of the afternoon discussing the best way to handle McKinsey. They all agreed to wait for the perfect moment, and not to act unless at least one other knew what they were doing. Bandog wasn't sure how he felt about trusting them. Some weight was lifted off his shoulders, and he felt less guilty than he had about Full Band, but Count still would give him a hard time about it. He hated him, and Bandog didn't blame him for it. But Trigger didn't seem that mad about it. In fact, she seemed thrilled with the idea of them all working together. She was surprisingly optimistic. Bandog just wished he could share her enthusiasm. He couldn't shake a feeling of dread, though. Like McKinsey would still win anyways.

* * *

_**August 5th, 2019.**_  
**0635hrs.**

It didn't take long for things to really start to change around the base. Several transport planes were flown in, and McKinsey called a briefing and ordered everyone to start packing things away. They were starting to be treated like a normal unit, and their orders were to pack everything away and move the base further inland. Within just a few days, the hangars were emptied of their fighters and now home to several crates full of equipment and aircraft parts and other various supplies. With how busy everything was, it seemed the guards forgot that half of their personnel were convicts. Naomi noticed that Spare Squadron and the other cons were almost being treated like regular people again.

McKinsey called them all in for another briefing, completely unaware that this move was an opportunity that Naomi and the rest of Spare Squadron had been waiting for. Now that the General Staff Office thought he was some great guy, they could drop the bomb on them. They'd have no choice but to investigate and admit that their golden boy wasn't all that honorable. As Spare Squadron and the prisoners that made up part of the ground crew filed into the briefing room, McKinsey eyed them with a stoic look on his face. Naomi, Count, and Tabloid all took seats at the front of the room with Bandog joining them instead of standing up front with the commander.

Once everyone had arrived and the doors were closed, McKinsey jumped into the briefing almost instantly. "Attention!" he shouted, but got no real reaction. The guards standing around the room stiffened, but no one else showed him the respect of standing at attention. As the screen in front of them displayed a map as usual, McKinsey went on, "I've received a communication from the General Staff Office. It seems your ability to carry out missions has gotten the attention of the higher-ups. All of you have been pardoned. The Osean Air Force Base 444 Squadron is now officially legit." He smiled for a moment as the map centered on the southernmost part of Usea, and a route began to appear. "In celebration, you are to join the operation to take back the base on Tyler Island in Southewestern Usea. The battle is underway and the airport to the south has been reclaimed. However, fighting with the remaining forces in the north is still active."

The screen showed Tyler Island, and Naomi noticed it pinpointed which areas were under allied control and which were Erusean. "You will all be stationed at the airport alongside another former penal unit. The battle is not letting up. We expect extensive losses to all involved. Still, the fact that we've gained new ground is a blessing." The map of Tyler Island vanished and it displayed all of Usea again. Naomi was taking her time to study everything displayed in front of her. McKinsey continued, "My time as CO of the penal base is over. All command personnel, including myself, are being moved to a base in Far Eastern Usea. However…" The map shrunk, and then showed an image of territory that Naomi didn't recognize. "We will be stopping to refuel in Bulgurdarest. It's in Erusean territory with close ties to Osea. Even if we detour, we will still have to fly through Erusean airspace in the end."

Naomi exchanged a look with the others. It wasn't the safest plan. Erusea would pick them up in a heartbeat. McKinsey had it all worked out, though, "And that is where we need you ex-cons to come in. I've selected a number of you with mission experience to provide support. We'll be leaving in a few hours, as soon as we're finished packing up the remaining supplies. That's all. Dismissed." And just like that, everyone stood up, murmuring anxiously. Naomi started to follow the others out, but McKinsey called her back. "Hey, Trigger! Wait right there!"

Count and Tabloid stopped and looked back. "You guys go on ahead. I'll meet you back at the hangars." They went on ahead, glaring at McKinsey as they left. Naomi frowned and turned to face the commander, crossing her arms and shifting her weight onto one leg. She tilted her head to one side, not entirely sure how she felt about the whole ordeal. "Yes, sir?" she asked him, although she didn't think he really deserved any sort of respectful title. Still, she'd come this far and didn't want to screw it up by popping off at the mouth.

McKinsey scowled and looked at a file with a sigh. "Though I'm not entirely happy with the arrangement, _you_ are going to help provide support. Since we're going into Erusean territory, there's a good chance that the drones might attack again. If they do, protect my aircraft with your life." Naomi nodded, listening carefully. Not that she liked the idea of dying for McKinsey, but it seemed her luck was turning. And she was a little excited about finally having her freedom back. McKinsey's scowl deepened. "If the General Staff Office hadn't stepped in and requested you, your ass would've been sent to Tyler Island with everyone else. You are covered in Harling's blood, yet you still are messing around behind the scenes and you did the exact thing I told you not to do on your first day. You breathe in a way I don't like and I'll shoot you out of the damn sky!"

"Whatever you'd like, sir," Naomi said with a forced smile, spinning on her heel to leave the room and follow the others. She heard McKinsey groan and mutter an insult under his breath just before the door shut behind her.

As she set out she realized that, as excited as she was to finally be pardoned, she didn't feel like she had anything left on the outside world. Her old squadron probably moved on a long time ago, not knowing if she was dead or alive. Hell, she didn't know if _they_ were dead or not. Naomi had a feeling that her rank had probably been stripped away, and if it hadn't it still wouldn't matter. With her criminal record and everyone thinking she killed Harling, her career wouldn't go anywhere anyways. She'd probably never be promoted and be stuck as a lieutenant for the rest of her life. Then there was her family. She knew their big secret and she wasn't sure that she could just go on with them like she used to. She did miss her family though…and she was a step closer to likely making it home and finally seeing them again.

The realization set in that she might never see Count or Tabloid or Avril again, either. If everyone else was going to Tyler Island, then that meant Avril and Tabloid as well. Naomi had no idea what was in store for Count. McKinsey hadn't stated who else would be flying as support for his transport. She didn't know that, in just a little over a month, she could feel a bit of a connection with all of them. Avril and Count hadn't made her stay easy for her in the beginning, but Avril came around and Count was…well, he was a work in progress. And Tabloid had been the first to welcome her and the only friendly face she knew for a while. Naomi felt immature for overthinking everything as she processed all the information they'd gotten in the briefing.

When Naomi got to the hangar, Count and Tabloid weren't there. But Avril stood in the center, leaning against a few boxes with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face as she studied the transports parked outside and all of the guards chatting and working to finish loading them up. Naomi approached her, still surprised by how spacious the hangars felt without the fighters in them. Avril barely even looked up at her as she reached her. "I guess McKinsey finally told y'all the news," she said, not looking at Naomi. It almost seemed like she was upset by everything going on around her, rather than pleased by her pardon. Naomi couldn't blame her, considering where she was probably going. "It's hard to believe that we're being treated like a regular unit, y'know? But, the funny thing is that no one around here can seem to remember that I've still got a bum leg. Oh! And that I'm not a soldier."

Now she turned to look at Naomi, a scowl on her face as she did. Naomi frowned. "I guess you already know what's going to happen to you, then," she asked, and her cellmate nodded. "But, didn't you go by HQ a couple of days ago to have a talk with him."

"Yeah, I went," Avril replied, pushing herself off of the crates and limping over to some other, still open boxes. "I was going to bribe my way onto McKinsey's transport with my grandfather's pipe. He left it to me, and it's pretty damn expensive. I guess McKinsey knew that, because he agreed. Said that there was only one seat left. Of course, I only got him to agree after I told him that I knew he'd be sending everyone else off to the front lines while he got all nice and cozy with some Generals in North Point."

"He told us a version of that in the briefing," Naomi said with a chuckle, following Avril as the mechanic loaded some extra tools into a nearby, half-filled box of other parts and tools. "But, I don't understand. If you got a seat on the transport, why didn't you agree? I mean…going to Tyler Island…you're—"

Avril held up a hand to stop her. "Yeah, I know. I'm probably heading straight into hell, but, whatever," she said with an almost playful smirk, tossing a wrench into the box before turning around to stare out the hangar doors again. "If the cons and the dumbass prison guards are going, then why shouldn't I? I'm no angel. Far from it. My old man died playing hero and all I do is hate him for it. I have for years." Naomi stood there, surprised and unsure how to respond. That was the most Avril had opened up to her yet. She didn't know much about Avril's backstory, since the woman was far from the most personal. Avril cleared her throat, as if she felt awkward revealing this. "And besides, someone's gotta keep an eye on Tabloid. That moron is gonna get himself killed, I swear to God. It ain't gonna be a picnic, that's for sure, but…I think we can handle it."

Naomi smiled at her. "Avril…God, this is gonna sound so weird, but I want to thank you," she replied. "I know we didn't get off on the right foot, but thanks for giving me a chance. And thanks for all the repairs you did for my plane. And Tabloid's. Also, for being patient with me. I know that I was a massive pain in the ass." Naomi gave an awkward laugh, but Avril gave her a surprisingly friendly smile. "I'm kind of going to miss you, actually. I mean, who else is going to tell me when I'm being a dumbass."

"Don't worry. I think Count can keep you in line with that," Avril replied. Naomi blinked in surprise and her friend was kind enough to explain. "I had a talk with Bandog before the briefing. The asshat said that you and Count would be the only ones flying support. Two aircraft seems a bit underprepared, but I didn't question it. Wherever you're going, just make sure that Count doesn't get himself punched in the mouth by someone and sent back here."

Both women laughed at this, but were interrupted by the subject of their conversation stepping into the hangar. They quickly stopped laughing as Count called out to Naomi, "Hey! Trigger, we have some pre-flight checks to go over before we head out. McKinsey wants us ready when the transports leave so we can get the hell outta this dump."

"Okay, thanks!" Naomi replied, raising her voice since he was on the other side of the hangar. "I'll be out there in a few minutes, Count!" He gave a curt nod and said goodbye to Avril before he left them alone again. Naomi looked back to Avril and sighed, giving a sad smile as she held out her hand. "I'll see you around, Scrap Queen. Thanks for everything, friend."

Avril chuckled, shaking her hand. "Adios, you damn fool."

* * *

**Author's Note:** _The Spare Squadron Arc is starting to come to an end. The next chapter will cover Transfer Orders and then we get to jump into Trigger's time with the LRSSG. Hope y'all are as excited as I am and I hope you enjoyed our little filler chapter!_


	19. Trepidation

Chapter Eighteen: Trepidation

|…|…|…|

**444th Air Base, Zapland.**  
_**August 5th, 2019.**_  
**0904hrs.**

|…|…|…|

"I don't like this..." Count grumbled as he and Naomi looked around at the transport planes being loaded up. Naomi looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He sighed and nodded to the plane that would be carrying most of the former convicts, Avril and Tabloid included. "They're going off to fight and we're stuck flying as an escort to some dickhead that probably sold Osea out to the Eruseans. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets us killed on the way there." Count groaned and shook his head. "I hate this. I figured I'd feel better once we were pardoned and instead it's nothing but more stress. We're not free, we're still stuck with this asshole. Honestly, I liked prison better without all of this espionage drama going on."

Naomi put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly, the only thing she knew to do at the time. Surprisingly, he relaxed a little at her touch, but was still tense. "We just have this one last mission and then it's all over," she said to him, lowering her voice in case someone overheard. She grinned, hoping to offer some comfort. Unfortunately she wasn't very good at it and the truth was that she was just as nervous as Count was. "I'm sure that after today, it'll just be a run of the mill war. No spies, no drama, just blowing shit up. Would you like that better?"

Count opened his mouth to reply, pulling away so that her hand wasn't on his shoulder anymore, but before he could say anything someone else stole away their attention. It was Tabloid, stepping forward with a sad smile on his face. "All of the luggage and equipment is loaded up, so Avril and I have to get going," he explained to them, glancing up at their planes. He then looked back and forth between Naomi and Count. "Believe it or not, I'm actually kind of gonna miss this place. I guess…I'll kind of miss the two of you as well." The three of them stood in silence for a moment before Tabloid grinned and he cleared his throat. "But, instead of acting all sad, let's just be happy that we're finally free. For the most part, anyways. And it's not like we won't see each other again once the war's over, right?"

"Hold on, now, you don't think we're gonna leave you and Avril hanging that long, do you?" Naomi asked with a laugh.

"Yeah," Count agreed. "Besides, stop being so dramatic about it. From the sounds of things, that island'll be as good as ours before long. And, you'll have the Scrap Queen to keep ya company. Can't be too bad." Count winked at this, but Tabloid shot him a dirty look. Naomi looked between the two of them, figuring that she was probably just missing some inside joke. Boys will be boys. God only knew what the two of them talked about together. They did used to share a cell, after all.

After a moment, Tabloid sighed and some of his anxiousness seemed to fade away. "I guess you're both right," he said, scratching the back of his neck as he looked back to the transport. The ramp was still down and Avril was waiting for him, along with a very impatient looking guard. He turned back to face Trigger and Count again. "Well, I guess this is where we go our separate ways. For now, at least. Maybe we'll meet again in different squadrons. It's an awfully small world, after all." He shook both of their hands and started to leave. He took a few steps, then paused and turned back to them. "Take care, you two. Oh, and Count? Don't forget our new motto." Count scowled and rolled his eyes, so Tabloid laughed and practically skipped away like a little child, calling over his shoulder, "And lighten up!"

Naomi looked at Count with a smirk once Tabloid and Avril boarded the transport and were out of sight. "New motto? This wouldn't happen to be that 'stick with Trigger' stuff, would it?" she asked him, giving him a nudge with her elbow.

He glared at her and shook his head. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Trigger," Count replied, turning away from her and heading over to where they'd laid out their flight gear. "Just suit up. We better get going before McKinsey decides to lock us up again."

She caught her flight helmet as he tossed it her way and she followed him, wearing a mildly curious expression. "Wait, but can you do that to someone?" she asked Count as she grabbed the rest of her equipment and began to put it all on over her regular flight suit as Count did the same. She continued, "I mean, if you pardon someone for something like murder then you can't arrest them for a speeding ticket."

"What?" Count asked her, confusion and annoyance written over his face.

Naomi grinned wildly. "I mean, bad analogy, but you get my point," she said with a shrug. "Maybe I'm just a little happy that I can fly at least one mission without the threat of solitary. Hell, we could do whatever crazy shit we wanted to today and there'd be absolutely nothing they could do about it." Naomi, for some reason, felt inclined to laugh as she finished with her flight gear, checked it all, and began to walk away to her F-2. It was sitting there, recently polished. She didn't even mind the sin lines anymore. She realized Count was still standing there, not making a move for his own fighter. She looked back at him. "Why are you just standing there? With a look like you've been hit in the face with a brick."

He shook his head and chuckled, grabbing his helmet and finally starting towards his own plane. "You worry me, Trigger," he replied, almost laughing.

"Ah, but you're stuck with me. So what are you gonna do about it?" Naomi called after him as she plopped into the cockpit rather unceremoniously. Not that she cared anymore. Like she said, none of the guards could stop her from it. Not like it was a problem anyways.

"I'm gonna get this operation over and done with, that's what I'm gonna do," Count retorted as he got himself settled in his own plane, leaning forward to — as far as Naomi could tell — check to make sure that his radio was secure. After a few minutes, Bandog approached them with a blank expression. Count was the first to notice him. He was still snide with Bandog, but seemed to understand that Bandog was looking to help them in some, weird way. Not bothering to mask how much he disliked their AWACS (especially after Full Band's death), Count smirked and said, "Well, I see the great Bandog has graced us with his presence. You here to bark at us before the mission?"

Bandog, who was looking as annoyed as ever, frowned at his comment. "Watch it, Count," he said, looking up at the two of them. "I just came by to see the two of you off. McKinsey won't tell me whether or not Erusea has anything up their sleeves, so whether or not they know about this operation is a mystery to me. That being said, there's absolutely no way of knowing what we're going to be running into." Bandog sighed, looking around to make sure that no one was around to hear him. As if the next words were difficult for him to say, he seemed to take a few breaths before finally saying whatever was on his mind. "What I'm trying to say is don't pull anything stupid out there. You dumbasses are the only people left to testify against McKinsey. I don't want you morons to get yourselves killed."

Although his tone was harsh, Naomi and Count looked across at each other and back down at Bandog. Naomi smiled and gave him a thumbs up. "Nice to know you care, Bandog," she said to him as she put her helmet on.

"I don't." Bandog was short and to the point, glancing at the runway where the aircraft he'd be on was ready to taxi. "I've got to go. We'll talk again once you're in the air. Good luck, Spare Squadron."

"Righto," Count almost chirped, watching as Bandog hurried away. He looked around. "Well, that better have been all of the goodbyes we're getting today. I'm ready to get in the air." Count turned to look at Naomi before the canopy closed, but he didn't say anything, only gave a half smile that she returned before they both fastened on their oxygen masks. There was a number of crew staying behind to man the control tower and keep the base in shape, so the control tower radioed Count and Trigger, giving Count permission to go ahead and taxi so that McKinsey's transport could follow. They'd send Naomi up last.

As Naomi waited, she wondered what would become of the base itself now that all of the personnel were being moved. Her best guess was that they might send any prisoners of war to the base, since it didn't have a lot of regular quarters. It was mostly cells, which made it perfectly suited for a POW camp. Naomi didn't like to think about those sorts of things, knowing that said camps were never a pleasant place to be. She'd heard Osea treated enemy prisoners better than their own prisoners, though. She wasn't sure if it was true, but she had no way of knowing. And she didn't want to know, either. Right now, she could put Zapland behind her. She had a second chance.

At last, once Count and McKinsey's bulky transport had gained some altitude, the control tower radioed her. "Spare 15, this is the control tower. The runway is clear. You are cleared for takeoff," the man said to her as she finished up her last minute checks. Naomi looked around, seeing that all of the other transports were lined up behind her, waiting for her to takeoff. "The base commander's transport craft has taken off. It's flying alongside Spare 2." Naomi hit the afterburners to gain speed and started down the runway. To her surprise, the formerly hostile man that always operated in the control tower spoke to her in a much friendlier voice as he said something similar to what Tabloid had. "Well, Trigger, this is where we part ways. I hope that you have better luck in your next squadron, kid."

"Thanks," Naomi said to them with a smile as she pulled up off the runway, taking to the air. She debated doing her signature barrel roll as a kind of send off, and ultimately decided to go ahead with it once she'd gotten some distance between her and the ground.

The man radioed her one last time. "Spare 15, takeoff confirmed," he announced. "Altitude restriction lifted. Goodbye, Trigger."

The wheels retracted and Naomi continued to climb until she'd caught up with Count and McKinsey. The two flew alongside McKinsey's transport on either side, having to slow down significantly to keep from shooting past it. As they set off in the opposite direction from Tabloid and Avril's transport, Naomi turned as far as she could in hopes to see behind her. All of the transport planes were airborne, and the 444th Air Base was left without a single pilot and only a couple of fighters. Although Naomi was still excited about her pardon, she'd miss Avril and Tabloid. She didn't come to prison expecting to make friends and yet she would consider them to be that in a heartbeat. She and Count were alone, now, though. They'd just have to adapt to no longer having those two around. Something told her that things would be alright in the end, putting her mind at ease.

Just one last mission.

* * *

_**Bulgurdarest, Eastern Usea.**_  
**1031hrs.**

After about an hour long flight, they finally arrived to the operation area. Officially they were still in Erusean territory, but they were close enough to Bulgurdarest that Naomi considered it to be 'there' anyways. Once McKinsey refueled at the airfield then Naomi and Count would be free of him. Knowing Bandog, they'd have to act fast in order for McKinsey to suffer any consequences. For the time being, Naomi just wanted to relax while she still could. They didn't know what they were facing, so they had to be on the lookout, but Naomi wished she could enjoy the scenery. For an overcast day it wasn't too bad. Usea was a pretty continent.

Unfortunately, Naomi's sightseeing would have to wait. Bandog interrupted her thoughts and broke the tense silence within just a few minutes. "Trigger, Count, listen up. The order is simple. Just kill anyone trying to kill the commander, even if they're one of us," Bandog said gruffly, getting straight to business. As Tabloid once said, no time to stop and smell the roses. Naomi shook her head and took a deep breath, checking her radar for any signs of an enemy presence.

Count, however, quickly replied to Bandog. "Like how you killed Full Band?" he challenged darkly. For a moment, Naomi was caught off guard. He was there when Bandog explained the situation and circumstances behind Full Band's death. The only reason he'd be saying that was just to put on an act for McKinsey. It worked on Naomi and she knew what happened, so hopefully McKinsey would be none the wiser.

"I told you, it was an accident!" Bandog growled at him, quickly going on the defense to continue the act. "So _shut up_!"

Neither of the pilots said anything. There was a pause before McKinsey's voice suddenly sounded over the radio. "Gimme that! I'll do the talking!" he snapped to someone on the plane. Bandog wasn't aboard the transport, was he? No, there wasn't any way he could be on board. He couldn't monitor anything from there. It was likely just another guy that Naomi couldn't be bothered to know. A former guard or something. As if Count and Naomi had no idea who he was, he announced to them, "This is Base Commander McKinsey." _No kidding…_Naomi thought to herself. McKinsey continued, "I want you idiots to understand the gravity of this operation. My orders take priority. That's it."

He went silent. Both Naomi and Count sighed, with Count voicing both of their thoughts. "Sure wish our cargo would shut up."

"Tell me about it," Naomi replied. It was then that two blips appeared on radar, and Naomi and Count were both able to see two specks against the hillside, further outlined on their HUD. "This is Spare 15. We have a visual on the target."

"I'll bet they're packing a lot of anti-air weaponry," Count said, almost thoughtfully. As Naomi went ahead, Count called out to her, "Don't freak out. Keep your shit together, Trigger!"

Naomi barely managed to resist rolling her eyes. "Count, I think I can handle a couple of SAM sites," she said to him, lowering her altitude to make a clean and fast hit and run on both targets. Unfortunately, she hadn't had the mind to pick LASMs for this mission. Something told her that Erusea had more up their sleeves that just a couple of hidden SAM sites. And like McKinsey said, there was no telling if the drones would show up again or not. She intended to be prepared for when they did. Getting her head back in the game, she carefully selected the target nearest to her, taking it out and moving on to the next. Both were eliminated, and Commander McKinsey's transport was safe. Letting herself smile, she called to Bandog for the confirmation of the target's destruction, "Bandog, how's it looking?"

"SAM site confirmed down. Stay alert," Bandog replied. "And both of you be on the lookout for camouflaged SAM sites. Erusea has managed to hide them well. You won't know they're there until you're right over them, so you'll have to get creative."

"Wilco…" Naomi said as she began to scan the sky. The missiles would leave a temporary trail that was hard to miss. If they followed it, then Naomi figured that the chances were they'd lead to more SAM sites. "Count, we'll split up. Follow the missile trails and it should lead you to the SAM sites. It's a safer plan than just flying around and hoping for the best. Got it?"

He was silent for a moment and Naomi wondered if he was upset that she'd given him an order, but at last he sighed and replied with an almost reluctant, "Righto." With that, he broke off from McKinsey's transport and formed up on Naomi's wing. He waited for a moment before doing as Naomi suggested and heading straight to the source after a missile was fired from nearby. The missile missed the commander, and both of them came to find their own group of targets. Count chuckled. "Found one. Let's hurry this up so we can sleep in for a change."

It was then that Bandog radioed them. "More SAM sites detected near your location. Keep the commander safe, I don't want to deal with the mess." Silence fell over them but the tension didn't go away. There was a lull in activity as Count and Naomi both searched for more missile trails. They were approaching more clouds, making it difficult to tell what was simply a part of the cloud and what wasn't. They would blend in perfectly. Bandog quickly grew impatient. "Trigger, Count! Roper 1 is exposed to anti-air fire. Are you two doing this on purpose? Hurry up and find those targets!"

"Damn, what an act," Naomi muttered to herself, but it seemed only Count and Bandog understood what she meant. Bandog didn't care about the commander's life. Not really, anyways. But she reminded herself that they all needed to keep him alive for a little while longer. Not much, but just enough. All three of them knew this. Count chose to remain close to the transport and pick off enemies closer to them while Naomi went ahead to uncover the remaining SAM sites. She was a little upset that he didn't run this past her, but she couldn't expect much from him. It's not like she was in charge. In fact, there wasn't really a squadron to be in charge of anymore. Besides, if she needed help then she'd just call him.

Just as she discovered another one, it fired a missile in the direction of Roper 1. Naomi quickly gunned it down, taking care of an AA gun just to run up the score a little bit. "Roper 1 has taken some damage from that missile, but it can still fly," Bandog informed her.

"Damaged?!" McKinsey suddenly scoffed. "Take out the goddamned missile and there'd be no damage, you morons!" Naomi sighed. She forgot that he was still there, listening to everything they were saying and likely criticizing every single thing they were doing.

Just as she took out the same site, more appeared. Then several new targets showed up on radar. Naomi sighed, feeling somewhat frustrated by having barely a second to rest in the battle. She wondered if this was how waiters felt in packed restaurants, just going back and forth and back and forth, never getting a chance to rest. Bandog radioed her and — once again — interrupted her random, distracting train of thought. "Bandits are closing in. Determined hostile. Spare 15, intercept them. Spare 2, take care of the SAMs before they can fire at the commander."

Count broke off from the transport and Naomi went ahead to intercept the enemy aircraft. As she did this, she heard McKinsey sneer, "The General Staff Office seems to have the impression that you didn't kill Harling, Trigger."

Naomi felt her heart skip a beat at the mention of this, but also defensive that she was still being accused of murdering Harling. Gritting her teeth and preparing herself for a dogfight as the Erusean Mirages came into view, she replied coldly, "That's because I didn't."

"We'll just have to wait and see about that," McKinsey replied as if there was no changing his mind. Not even now. "The court at our destination has agreed to reopen and go through your case again. Successfully carry out this mission and it'll give a good impression."

She sighed, switching to her special weapon. Although she'd been conserving it, now seemed as good a time as any to use them. Only problem was that she had to face the enemy fighters head on or directly behind them in order for it to get a solid lock on and actually work. She fired one at the lead plane as it broke off to pick a fight with her, leaving his wingman to intercept McKinsey. The HVAA hit the target like she hoped it would, sending it to the ground in a ball of flame and shrapnel. Just before she pulled away, she did see that the pilot managed to eject in time. That was fine with her. She only wanted his plane out of commission. Quickly, she went after the next one, making quick work of it before it could even come within range of McKinsey's transport.

No sooner had Naomi finished off the Erusean fighters did Bandog shout, "Roper 1 hit by another missile! Commander McKinsey, are you alright?"

McKinsey didn't reply for a while, and Count and Naomi were already making their way back to the transport to provide support. McKinsey finally answered, grunting and sounding a little shaken up. "Bandog, get some more support here, now! Just tell them I requested it!"

"There's no time," Bandog replied patiently. "Two aircraft will have to do. Spare Squadron, finish up with the SAM sites. The next missile could down the commander's craft." Indeed, it appeared that they'd simply been lucky. The right wing was smoking, but it only appeared to have slowed the transport down significantly. Regardless, they were almost there.

"Count, can you keep an eye on Roper 1 until I take care of the SAM sites?" Naomi asked him as they temporarily joined up together beside the transport. She glanced anxiously over at Count's plane when he didn't respond, but he simply adjusted himself so that he was back to flying alongside the transport. "Count?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Just go and take the bastards out..." Count grumbled in response. As she flew off, leaving the transport in his capable hands, she heard him add, "Flying as an escort makes me feel like I'm all tied down. I'll be happy once we're finished with this stupid operation."

"Escorts that go down do so in honorable service," McKinsey reminded him calmly. "Worthy of my praise." That kept Count from complaining, and both of them shut up with any smart comments. Or, they would for a few minutes anyway.

It didn't take long to find the remaining SAM sites. They were closer to the border that separated Bulgurdarest from the neighboring Erusean territory. Naomi could make out the outskirts of the city and the airfield, and several allies showed on her HUD. Why weren't they helping? She knew that Bulgurdarest was neutral during most conflicts, but were they so neutral that they'd just allow their allies to die? Not to mention the fact that there were several Osean forces waiting for them. Whatever the reason, they stayed on their side of the border and simply watched or whatever they were doing. Naomi shot down the last of the SAM sites and a radar truck before pulling up and heading back to Count and Roper 1.

When she arrived, she found that two Erusean squadrons had closed in and Count was taking them on by himself, barely managed to keep them off of the transport. Naomi jumped into the fight without a word and the two of them split the flight up, taking them on one at a time to keep them from downing McKinsey's plane. After they took out one and damaged two others, the Erusean pilots made the smart decision to withdraw from the airspace, leaving without even trying to take out the transport. Naomi and Count circled back around to McKinsey, with Naomi scanning the craft for anymore signs of damage. Aside from what appeared to be a few dings from the enemy planes' machine guns, it looked to be in good condition.

"Yikes! I almost forgot about the transport," Count said in mock concern. "Trigger, it can still fly, right?" He knew the answer. It was obvious, but he just wanted to joke around and get on McKinsey and most likely Bandog's nerves. After a pause, he added, "Hey, how much longer on this flight anyways?"

"Twenty-four kilometers," Bandog answered. "So, you're about halfway."

Sure enough, the city came into view again. McKinsey was quick to notice this. "Oh, I see the city, now! Once we're over the border, we'll be safe. Hurry up!" It seemed he was eager to get out of Erusean airspace. Naomi couldn't really blame him. Like Bandog said before they left Zapland, there was no way of knowing what they'd be running into and Erusea had all sorts of new defenses. Like Helios missiles. Where did those even come from? And what would stop them from using them here, either? McKinsey seemed to have more than that on his mind, though. It sounded like he was looking over Naomi and Count's OADF files or something like that, especially when he said out loud, "Well…Count looks promising. He's got a good combat record."

Naomi could only imagine what he was doing. He might have just been trying to get on Count's good side, or he was simply thinking out loud. Count didn't seem to care, especially not once they reached the border. "Hey, look below. Is that a…wall?" Naomi looked down, just as he said, and there was a long, concrete wall lining the border. A little unusual, somewhat unattractive, but it defined their border a lot better than most other methods. Count chuckled incredulously. "They built a wall along the border. They're nuts!"

"They're imposing their independence on _everyone_. Like it or not," Bandog replied.

"I mean, it is _their_ territory and _their_ border. They can mark said border however they please. Not like we could stop them, anyways," Naomi put in. She was the first to cross over it, slowing down enough to wait for the transport and Count to catch up.

"Arriving shortly at destination." Bandog announced. He was silent for a moment. "Trigger, I just want to let you know that it's a breath of fresh air having you out here."

Count scoffed. "Oh, you hear that Trigger?"

Naomi ignored him, finding Bandog's comment somewhat flattering. He also ignored Count, quickly adding, "In our squadron, even the good pilots were criminals. At least you don't stink like them, Trigger."

Before she could respond, Count quickly jumped in. "Looks like not all guard dogs have a good sense of smell," he sneered. "Trigger's got the worst criminal record out of all of us!" Naomi felt a little bad that she was upset with him for reacting to Bandog's praise the way he did, considering that she never wanted to overshadow Count in any way. Seemed he couldn't help but be a little jealous. She knew she probably would be if Count was getting praise over her.

"Count, you were convicted of fraud," Bandog suddenly pointed out, catching both of them by surprise. "You sure as hell don't live up to your name." Naomi didn't know why Count was in Spare Squadron, although looking back she realized that it was a little obvious. He was so guarded all the time, though, that she doubted anybody knew much about him. Perhaps the other Spare pilots, namely Tabloid, knew why he was there. She wondered why she hadn't figured it out.

"Save your sermons for someone who cares, preacher," Count snarled, clearly upset that Bandog had just blurted out that information and insulted him.

"You wouldn't understand, Count. Not until you take a good look in the mirror," Bandog answered, sounding almost like a preacher when he did. A very judgmental, angry, cynical preacher, but a preacher nonetheless. Before Count could continue and start an argument, Bandog ended the topic of criminal records and praise right then and there. "We've arrived at destination. Roper 1, report your situation."

"Oh, would you look at that! Support has kept me alive!" McKinsey said, sounding angry, impressed, and surprised all at one time. How? Naomi didn't know. Nor did she care. McKinsey went on, but she figured they were all pretty much tuning him out. "This is significant for all of our forces. I left my mark by proving the penal unit's abilities as a useable military force—"

It was at that moment that Bandog quickly cut the commander off, sounding concerned, "All aircraft, caution. Bogies!"

Naomi sighed. "Seems the fun isn't over, yet. Bandog, what have you got?"

"Unidentified aircraft," Bandog replied quickly. "They're fast. Real fast."

"What?!" Count exclaimed. Both of them were frantically searching the sky and their radar for signs of the enemy, but they didn't have to look for very long. Within a few seconds, a strange aircraft shot past them, spinning around and pulling up as it passed the transport. It continued to climb, spinning around once more, just flying in the open as if it was examining its prey or mocking them. "It closed in fast!" Count cried out, taking up the rear to protect the transport. Naomi quickly took point, waiting for the enemy to come back around.

"Unknown considered hostile!" Bandog informed them as Naomi switched to her special weapons and prepared herself for a lengthy and difficult fight. "Respond to the situation! Protect Roper 1!" In the blink of an eye, the fast, weird looking aircraft zipped back around, gaining altitude and hovering above them. Naomi reacted as fast as she could, picking up speed and performing a high-G turn to get upright and into a climb, just as Bandog ordered, "Spare 15, engage! Take down the bandit!" He next gave Count orders. "Spare 2, support Roper 1 and escort the craft to safety!"

"Wilco!" Count replied eagerly. "I was just about to ask if I could do that myself."

As Naomi lined up with the target, she was bombarded with a spray of gunfire at the exact moment she got a lock and fired. Both missiles seemed to just disappear in a short, anticlimactic explosion. Watching the way it moved, and recognizing a feeling of adrenaline, Naomi could have sworn that it flew similarly to Mr. X, with slightly more simple movements. She didn't know if there was a pilot in this thing or not, but she wanted it gone and out of the way. Naomi had an idea, though she'd have to be quick. She fired an HVAA and then switched to regular missiles and fired two at the same time. One missile hit, but the first two vanished. "Bandit hit, but it's still active!" Bandog announced.

"Trigger, keep that guy away from here!" Count said.

"What is that thing?! Keep it away from our aircraft!" McKinsey added in alarm, echoing what Count had said. "And Spare 2 you stay right here! Don't you dare go flying off! I'll have your wings!" Count sighed at this, but didn't say anything.

Naomi ignored them, continuing to twist around with the enemy aircraft. She was starting to lose sight of which way was up and which way was down as they rose above the clouds. At last she had an outlet for all of her pent up anger and frustration, but this guy wasn't going down without a fight. Naomi decided to give it a taste of its own medicine, hitting it with her own gunfire and simultaneously firing a missile. Some of the bullets scraped it up a bit, but the missile was quickly evaded. She growled in frustration and tried to figure out why that didn't work. Bandog seemed surprised by it as well. "The bandit evaded a missile. How the hell did he manage that?"

"I don't know, but Trigger's movements are insane!" Count said with a chuckle. "Damn, girl!" It was rare that Count gave her any praise or sounded that impressed by anything she ever did. She was shocked, but not ungrateful. However, now wasn't the time to reply. Even Count quickly got his mind back on track. Either that, or he realized he'd actually said something nice and snapped out of it. "What the hell does he want?! He's got his ACM down, but something's off…just who does he think he is?"

"Spare 2, stay alert!" Bandog reminded him sharply. "When you get there, the responsibility's on you!" Naomi didn't have time to figure out what that meant, though she automatically assumed he meant once they reached the airfield. After struggling a bit more, figuring out the pattern to the bandit's movements, Naomi managed to slow it down with her machine gun. It was tricky keeping it within range, but after some effort she managed to hit it. Bandog was quick to inform her of it. "Bandit hit! Spare 15, time to finish him off!" Taking a deep breath, and with one, quick pull of the trigger, she fired a missile at it. It hit, and the aircraft burst into flames and went spinning out of control and out of site. "Bandit lost. Confirmed down. Clear skies all round. Spare 15…you did well."

Naomi, sweating and shaken from the fight, turned around to regroup with Count. "Thanks, Bandog, but I feel like I'm gonna throw up," she admitted. "I really want to know what the hell that thing was, though."

"Wait, what now?" Bandog suddenly said, the worry creeping back into his voice. Naomi was set back on edge. "Four friendlies approaching."

"Allied fighters?" Count asked.

"Remember what happened last time a bunch of friendlies entered the airspace? I wouldn't consider them friendlies just yet," Naomi said as she checked her ammunition. She didn't have enough to take on four aircraft. If she worked with Count then they might be able to take down two or three.

Bandog wasted no time radioing the incoming fighters. "This is the Air Force Base 444 Squadron. What is your affiliation?"

Naomi and Count were both able to relax as a cheerful and familiar voice responded to Bandog's question. "That a guard dog I hear barking?" the voice of Cyclops Squadron's leader said in mild amusement. There was no mistaking who it was. "This is your old friend, Cyclops 1." Just as he said this, four F-15s came into view, flying in perfect formation. Naomi felt herself grinning. She didn't know what they were doing here, but she was happy to see them again. Wiseman hadn't shunned her for her heritage and in fact showed her some support and she felt like she owed something to him in a way. Regardless, that was just four more people she trusted and four more allies for her, Count, and Bandog.

"Cyclops Squadron!" Bandog exclaimed, almost expressing some joy in there somewhere. He did sound a little excited. "But…what're you doing here?"

"Well, we were tracking an enemy prototype," Wiseman explained. He chuckled. "Then it just went off of the radar. I wouldn't be surprised if that dumbass from your side was the one who downed it." There was a pause. "She _is_ here, isn't she?"

"Yes sir!" Naomi replied quickly. "About that weird looking prototype thing…er…that was also me."

McKinsey interrupted her. "This is Base Commander McKinsey. Major Wiseman, I apologize on behalf of that asshole. She really screwed up!" he snapped, not giving Naomi an opportunity to defend herself. "She didn't listen to my order to stand down." Naomi rolled her eyes at this. Of course he'd make it seem like she'd disobeyed an order. She did exactly as she was told, and saved his ass, and he repaid her by throwing her to the wolves. Of course, Wiseman didn't sound upset. McKinsey on the other hand, did. "I'm certain that she'll be punished for taking down the unidentified aircraft."

To Naomi's surprise, it was Count that came to her defense. "Oh, gimme a break!" he snapped. "Trigger didn't do anything but follow orders!"

"Commander McKinsey, if you would kindly accompany me back to my base, we'll answer any questions you have there," Wiseman said cooly, acting as if he hadn't heard Count. Naomi had a feeling that he believed Count's story over McKinsey's, though. The four F-15s circled around them like a pack of wolves, maintaining their formation before splitting off and positioning themselves around the transport and Naomi and Count. Wiseman took the lead, with two aircraft flying on either side of the transport and then one on the tail end. No one could reach the transport without fighting their way through on every side.

McKinsey was quiet as he likely observed the formation from the transport. At last, he said, "Hmm…actually, I'm grateful. Support was unreliable."

"Respectfully, sir, I believe they've got promise," Wiseman answered. Naomi grinned, and she was sure that even Count was probably smiling. It seemed Bandog's plan just might work out for them after all. Wiseman was on their side, so they might be able to get a few of the higher ups on their side. Bandog claimed he had connections. As they prepared to land and refuel for their flight to New Arrows at the Bulgurdarest airfield, Wiseman added to Naomi, "Oh, and Trigger? There's some people back at our base waiting for you. I have a feeling you'll be happy to see them again."


	20. Reunion

Chapter Nineteen: Reunion

|…|…|…|

**New Arrows Air Base, Eastern Usea.**  
_**August 5th, 2019.**_  
**1905hrs.**

|…|…|…|

The arrival at New Arrows Air Base was nothing like Naomi had been expecting. The base was much larger than the 444th had been, and it was also larger than Fort Grays. Not to mention much livelier than both of those bases. The runway was massive, lined with several hangars on one side. At the end of the row of hangars was a flagpole with an impressively sized Osean flag attached to the top of it. Then, on the other side of the runway were several other buildings, including two control towers and what Naomi could assume were housing for the base personnel. There was a lot of greenery, too, mostly pine trees that towered over the buildings. Naomi and Count both circled around the base in the air and got a good look at it as they waited for Cyclops Squadron and McKinsey's transport to land. The E-3 Sentry that Bandog was aboard had already landed, leaving them to follow.

After Cyclops Squadron landed, McKinsey was guided in, and then it was Count and Naomi's turn. Count went first, carefully landing his Su-33 and following the other aircraft outside one of the empty hangars. Naomi followed, finding the controller guiding her in to be much nicer than the ones at Zapland. She was happy about that, but she'd only been getting more and more nervous so the relief and joy was overshadowed by her anxiousness. As soon as everyone was landed and Naomi and Count were out of their planes and flight gear, they joined Cyclops Squadron beside McKinsey's transport, where Bandog was waiting as well. McKinsey exited, followed by several soldiers, all armed and eyeing Count and Naomi with suspicion.

"Colonel McKinsey, welcome to New Arrows Air Base," Wiseman greeted with a smile, his hands clasped together behind his back. Naomi and Count nearly laughed as Wiseman, unbeknownst to McKinsey, made a carefully disguised jab at their commander, "I know it's not as glamorous as you might be used to, but it gets the job done." There was a pause as McKinsey looked around at his surroundings, almost impressed. Wiseman was quick to speak up again, gesturing to a pilot with tanned skin and curly black hair as he did, "Commander, if you'd please follow our lieutenant here, he'd be happy to show you to _our_ commander. And if it's alright with you, I'd like to have a word with your escorts as well as Bandog."

McKinsey considered this for a moment, eyeing the lieutenant that stepped forward with a friendly, relaxed smile. "Very well, then, Major," he said with a nod. He glared daggers at Count and Naomi as he passed them, turning away from the hangars. "Remember not to say or do anything you'll regret. You're still under my command for the time being and I expect even the pair of you to understand that." Just like that, he left them with Wiseman, following the lead of the friendly lieutenant that gave both Count and Naomi a sympathetic smile.

Once they were out of earshot and as soon as McKinsey's soldiers went back inside the transport, Wiseman turned away from the plane and led them to the hangar where Cyclops Squadron had parked their incredibly good looking aircraft. Naomi and Count followed after them as Wiseman motioned for them to follow. Naomi looked around at the other pilots that had flown with Wiseman that day. Lieutenant Dave Winters and Lieutenant Erika Hirose. Both of them known better by their callsigns, Fencer and Húxiān respectively. Fencer muttered something to Húxiān as both of them regarded the Spare pilots and Bandog with some concern. Húxiān said something back to him before giving a friendly, reassuring smile to them.

When they entered the hangar it was much clearer to Naomi how out of place they were. Naomi and Count wore brighter green flight suits that were discolored with dirt and other grime, with a prisoner number on one arm and a Spare patch on the other. No name or any form of identification aside from that. Bandog was the same, wearing simple OADF fatigues with a Spare patch and an Osean flag. Whereas the crew and other pilots in the hangar all looked like regular soldiers. Their flight suits were more of a grayish-green that Naomi was used to seeing in the IUN and they wore a patch above their breast pocket with their wings and full name and rank. On one shoulder was the Osean flag and an LRSSG patch, and the pilots all wore a patch on their other shoulder that was the emblem of either Cyclops Squadron or Strider Squadron.

All of them stood at attention when Wiseman entered, until he put them at ease. They all eyed Naomi and her two companions, and she felt in that moment like just slipping into the shadows and disappearing. Unfortunately, the LRSSG's hangars were well lit with little to hide behind. In an attempt to ignore those around her, Naomi took in her surroundings with awe. The planes and the hangar were all clean, with everything neat and tidy and in its own place. The F-15s were proudly on display, with not a single scratch on them and mechanics already checking them over. Aside from more less than friendly faces, Naomi was starting to feel more at home.

Before Wiseman could open his mouth to speak, pilots that hadn't been present in the air all rushed forward to greet their commanding officer. Naomi and Count, both overwhelmed by the sudden activity and noise, instinctively took a step away from the officers (all of which technically outranked them). Naomi quickly looked over the group. She recognized Jaeger, who was patiently waiting for Wiseman to speak rather than crowding him and blurting out questions, but the other two she didn't recognize. There was a lanky young man, probably only twenty at the most, with messy black hair and dark brown eyes. He was fit and Naomi could have sworn that he was in better shape than Count. Or maybe after spending God knows how long in prison the two of them were just out of shape. And the other one was a very broad, dark skinned man that was in his late twenties at least.

The younger of the two was the first to speak up, having a very young voice and a fast way of talking. "Long Caster said you caught up to the prototype," he said, his excitement clear. "I heard it went down and you ran into the Spare Squadron again. Wait…" The boy turned his attention to Naomi and Count and then back to Wiseman, suddenly grinning. "Wait, are these the pilots? I mean, _the_ pilots? The ones that Lieutenant Hirose and Lieutenant Jaeger said took on Mr. X over Yinshi Valley? Is it them, is it really them?!"

Wiseman sighed. "Tailor, give them some space," he said. Naomi and Count exchanged a confused, mildly annoyed look with one another that was also shared by Bandog. "I'll tell you about it later. For now, why don't you go with Fencer and Skald to tell our guests that their friends are here? I think we've had them cooped up and confused for long enough. No sense in keeping them waiting any longer than necessary, right?" Wiseman clapped the young lieutenant — Tailor, Naomi guessed was his name — on the shoulder as Fencer stepped forward.

Tailor's face fell and the muscular black man that Naomi assumed was Skald started out the hangar. Fencer gave a soft smile, placing his arm on Tailor's back and giving him a light shove as he stood there, protesting in vain. "C'mon, Beckett. There'll be plenty of time to talk with them later," Fencer said as they left. Tailor looked at them with a disappointed look on his face, waving goodbye before he twisted away from Fencer. Naomi and the others watched them go, Fencer and Tailor both laughing as Tailor tried desperately to get away from Fencer's attempts to put the younger man in a headlock. Both pilots seemed to have a sort of brotherly relationship from what Naomi could see. Within just a few seconds, they broke into a run and were gone.

Count scoffed, shaking his head and looking back to Wiseman. He pointed at the hangar entrance and the direction that the other three had gone. "Is that kid on a sugar high or something? And what is he, all of twelve?" he asked in mild disbelief.

It was Jaeger that replied with a soft laugh. "Lieutenant Beckett is nineteen," he explained. "We needed more pilots so they sent him here to finish his flight training. In his free time he does his regular schoolwork. So, I guess he's kind of homeschooled." Wiseman and Jaeger both grinned at this, and even Húxiān gave a small smile. Jaeger added with another laugh, "But, we do enjoy having him around. The kid is eager to learn and has a good grasp on flying and the importance of teamwork, even if he is a bit naive at times."

"Do you actually send him into combat?" Naomi suddenly asked, wide-eyed. She knew that she was young for a fighter pilot, but Tailor was too young for a fighter pilot. He was still going through regular school. If she'd been his CO, there was no way she'd send him anywhere near the frontline. And the borderline childlike energy and excitement he had didn't help either.

Wiseman quickly shook his head, almost laughing at the idea. "No, we don't. And unless we absolutely need him then we probably won't. He stays on the ground. Really he's just more of a backup plan. His mother and father had some connections in the military, so that's really the only reason why he got sent here," he replied. Naomi relaxed a little, looking around nervously. Most of the crew that had been watching them had gone back to their work, no longer paying them much attention. Wiseman cleared his throat and changed the subject quickly. "But, we can introduce you and get backstories later. While we wait for them to come back, why don't you explain your situation to me? I was expecting that Full Band guy to be around to share the intel, like he said when I spoke with him over the phone. Where is he?"

Count and Naomi both went silent, so Bandog stepped in with some reluctance. "There was an incident during our last sortie. Full Band was killed under Commander McKinsey's orders, once the colonel found out that he was gathering restricted information," he quickly explained. "Unfortunately, the last bit of intel that he had gathered up was on a flash drive that was in his pocket when he died, so the only proof that we have is what Full Band gave you and a copy that he gave me. I _did_ manage to fit a little extra information on mine before we left, but I ran out of space on it." Bandog reached into his breast pocket and produced a flash drive that was in a protective plastic container. He held it out for Wiseman to take.

"I'm sorry about your wingman," Wiseman said with a solemn nod, taking the flash drive and examining it carefully. "I'll make sure that we look over this ASAP. The information that I gave our base commander should be enough to take care of McKinsey, or at the very least strip him of any command positions. However, I'd like a full report from all of you about your time at the 444th, if you're up to it. Especially from you, Bandog." He slipped the flash drive into his pocket. "Now, in the meantime I have a few phone calls to make. All three of you could use some rest, so I'll let Húxiān take it from here and show you to some temporary, last minute quarters." He stepped aside and allowed Húxiān to take his place in front of them. "You all remember Lieutenant Hirose?"

Naomi nodded, Count mumbled a yes, and Bandog gave an uncharacteristically friendly smile. "Of course," he said, holding his hand out for Húxiān to take. "Lieutenant, it's good to see you again."

Húxiān looked down at his hand before finally taking it in a firm, short lived handshake. "Yes…it's good to see you all again," she said with an almost forced smile. She looked to Count and Naomi, her eyes narrowing on Naomi. "The two of you seem to enjoy making an entrance. First you take on the crazy ass experimental squadron in Yinshi Valley and then you take out an advanced prototype. I must say that you've got our attention." With that, she grinned and winked, leading the way out of the hangar. "Well, let's get going. I'm sure you're tired after a long flight and it's getting pretty late."

The three of them said goodbye to Jaeger and Wiseman and quickly followed Húxiān as she led the way out of the hangar. Count looked unsure about the entire situation, walking at a slower pace and grabbing Naomi's arm to slow her down. "Are we sure that they can be trusted?" he asked her, lowering his voice to a whisper. Naomi didn't answer at first, watching Bandog and Húxiān as they talked further ahead. She didn't know what to think. On one hand, they seemed to genuinely care and want to help them, but on the other Spare Squadron had been screwed over by Osea too many times to keep track of anymore. Count went on, "Besides, how do we know that their commander isn't secretly in on whatever McKinsey is? What if they toss us back into prison for espionage or something. And for good this time."

She took a deep breath, understanding Count's point of view but trying to be optimistic. "We just need to sit and wait a little while longer, Count," Naomi said to him. She noticed his expression go from concerned to unreadable, a give away that she probably upset him even more. "Look, I know it's not going to be easy but they seem like they're trying to help us so we should just trust them. And if it means getting rid of McKinsey, then I'm all for it." Count shook his head and muttered something, frustrated and nervous all at once. Naomi stopped and held her arm out in front of him so he'd stop, too. He sighed and looked at her with an expectant look on his face. It took her a few seconds, but she finally found the right words. "Count…if you can't trust them, then can you trust me? I've got a good feeling about this."

"Woman's intuition, huh?" Count asked her with a chuckle to ease the tension.

Naomi smiled and gave a small nod. "Yeah, something like that." She glanced towards Bandog and Húxiān, who'd only just then noticed that Count and Naomi had stopped. Quickly, she looked back at Count. "Please, Count?"

He sighed and looked around. At last, with a small nod he finally agreed. "Okay, fine. I'll take your word for it, Trigger." With that he started walking again to catch up with the other two, but not before he added to Naomi, "And you'd better not be wrong."

The four of them continued on their walk, making it away from the hangars and to the buildings on the other side of the runway within the hour. Húxiān didn't give them the grand tour or anything like that, but she did tell them the major locations around base. The mess hall, which was situated between one of the control towers and one of the barracks, was the first place they passed by. Although Naomi was hungry, and she was sure that Count and Bandog were, too, she didn't ask to stop and the group continued walking. Húxiān also pointed out HQ to them, which was directly in the center of everything else and easy to get to. Naomi got a good look at each of the buildings. All of them were made out of standard material and looked sturdy and in better condition than the buildings Naomi was used to.

To their surprise, Húxiān led them past the main barracks and to a building at the end of everything, directly beside the only medical building they had. At last, she stopped and turned around. "And here we are. Your temporary housing until we get official orders on what to do with the three of you," she said. They all looked over the building. It was smaller in size compared to the other barracks, but no less attractive than the others. As Húxiān led them inside, Naomi felt like she was back at Fort Grays. It was a regular military building, with air conditioning, bright lights, and sleek floors. Húxiān noticed the look on their faces as she led them down the halls. "Much better than where you used to be stayin', huh?"

"This place is a palace compared to the 444th," Naomi replied with a laugh, unable to stop from grinning. "Y'all really know how to maintain a building." Even Count nodded in agreement, looking somewhat stunned. It was probably because he and Bandog had been at the 444th longer than Naomi had. She wondered just how long. It couldn't have been before the start of the war, but after going even a couple of days without the regular comforts could have some sort of effect on people.

Húxiān had a look of understanding on her face, as if she could relate to them in some way. However, she quickly put on a poker face and cleared her throat. "Mostly we put visiting commanders and their soldiers in this place, if they're just staying for repairs and resupply and whatnot. Or on the off chance that someone transfers here and we need a place to put them while we find suitable quarters." The way that she jumped right into an explanation gave Naomi the impression that she was either uncomfortable with any silence or she'd had to talk the place up before. Naomi would have been happy with anything, honestly, just so long as she could rest. Her feet and back were killing her. At last, Húxiān came to a stop in the middle of the hallway. "Okay, this is the place. Bandog and…Count, right? You'll be sharing this room and Trigger you have the one just across from them."

They looked at the two doors that she had pointed at and nodded that they understood. Count did give Bandog a distasteful look, but didn't try and argue. Naomi looked to Húxiān and smiled. "Thanks for the guide, Lieutenant," she said. Húxiān nodded and started to leave, but Naomi called out to her. "Wait! Wiseman said that someone was waiting for us…who is it?"

Húxiān paused, looking between the three of them before shaking her head. "I can't tell you that," she said. "Wiseman's orders. Just get settled and rest for a little while. Someone will come by later and take you to see our doctor for a checkup and then we'll go from there. I'm sorry I can't tell you more than that." With a quick goodbye she turned around and quickly went back the way that they'd come in. The door echoed as it opened and then slammed shut and they were left alone, standing in a quiet hallway.

A few soldiers walked by, talking, but other than that the building seemed so empty. They didn't know what to do. Naomi definitely didn't. They were without any personal belongings, save for what they were wearing. There wasn't anything to do but stay cooped up in a bare, empty room until someone came to get them. It was an awful lot like being back in prison. Without a word, too tired to really care, Naomi opened the door that led to the room she'd be staying in and she stepped inside. There was a cot set up in the corner of the room with a blanket folded at the foot of it and a pillow placed on top of that. Across from that there was a metal desk and on the far side of the room there was a window that had a view of the runway and the hangars.

She shut the door and laid down on the cot, looking up at the ceiling. After a long day in the air and on the ground, she was just happy to sleep in something a little more comfortable than what she'd been sleeping on before. As she closed her eyes, she couldn't get the vivid image of the drone she'd faced out of her mind. It was such a strange sight. Long, thin, incredibly agile and seeming to think for itself in a way. It was terrifying and fascinating at the same time. It reminded her of Mr. X, though. Like another version of him but with less experience and more agility. As she drifted off to sleep, the memories of her battle in Yinshi Valley and her battle with the prototype drone took the place of any dreams.

* * *

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
_**August 6th, 2019.**_  
**0627hrs.**

Mihaly studied the computer screen in front of him intently as he would if he was studying any enemy. On one side of the screen it displayed various well known aces from wars many years before and on the other side it played footage of the pilot with the three scratches. The three strikes. The footage of this strange pilot had been captured from cameras that Schroeder had equipped a few of the drones with to study them in combat in improve upon them. Shortly before their demise, they managed to record and send footage back to the EASA scientists of this pilot. Mihaly had also been looking over footage that he himself had captured during Yinshi.

However, none of the aces that he'd seen resembled this pilot's flying style. The closest he'd found had been of the ISAF pilot, Mobius 1, but his movements were more graceful and deliberate. It seemed more like he was dancing rather than fighting and he dragged the dogfight on for much too long. The last footage he had was of Ustio's mercenary team during the Belkan War. The infamous Galm Team that had made its way into the stuff of legends. Mihaly pressed play and rewinded the footage of his white whale to play them simultaneously as he had been doing all morning with the other aces.

The first clip of the Galm Team showed their lead plane, the Demon Lord, but his style was less destructive and he was selective about which targets he took down. It wasn't until they showed the second pilot of Galm Team did Mihaly finally see similarities. The pilot with one red wing — Solo Wing was his nickname if Mihaly remembered correctly — flew almost identically to the pilot with the three strikes. The only difference was that the one with three strikes was far more aggressive. One he got his target he made sure it was dead. Solo Wing had a more hit and run approach, letting a few damaged aircraft retreat. Mihaly studied them for a few moments longer before he shut down the computer.

He looked over at Dr. Schroeder, who was using a different computer a few feet away. The doctor looked up at him, but his expression was blank. Only his ice colored eyes betrayed his curiosity. "General Shilage," he said with a nod. "I take it you finally found what you've been looking for? You've been pouring over that footage for days, now. Surely something came of it." The man was right, although Mihaly didn't necessarily want to agree. There was hours worth of footage for nearly every ace that ever flew in the skies. Oddly enough, most of them seemed to have some connection to Osea. At least the ones within the last few years, with the exception of some Emmerian ace that was staying on his own continent and not getting involved with external conflicts.

"Yes, I believe I did find what I was looking for, Doctor," Mihaly said, glancing down at the computer. He looked back at Schroeder and studied the younger man for a few minutes. Schroeder was a Belkan, and one that was old enough to remember what living in the country was like during the war. Which meant that he must remember some stories about the Galm Team. Although it was a somewhat insensitive approach, Mihaly felt like he needed to know the connection between the three lines and Solo Wing and this was one way to do it. "I do happen to have a question for you, though."

Schroeder looked up, blinking in surprise. "Oh?" He narrowed his eyes, almost suspiciously. "What is it?"

Mihaly tried to think of a way to phrase it, simply going right to the point. "Do you know anything about the Galm Team?" he asked calmly. "More specifically, anything about the pilot with the one red wing?" Schroeder's expression turned to one of shock and worry, his mouth curving down into a frown and his eyes flashing briefly with something close to fear. Mihaly waited patiently for a response, but Schroeder didn't answer, taking a deep breath and typing something into his computer. His patience slowly running out, Mihaly prodded him for more information. "Doctor? I only need to know a little bit about them. It's very important to me."

After taking another deep breath, the Belkan scientist finally lifted his head from the computer and nodded with a blank expression. "Yes, I know a little bit about them. Mostly stories from my parents and a few family friends," he replied. "If you want to know about Solo Wing…well, the military had a price on his head for a while. He trained in the Belkan Air Force before defecting when political tensions began to rise. After that, many in our country wanted him dead. He and his wingman, the Demon Lord, made a reputation for themselves as you can guess. After the war ended most people forgot about him until the documentary in 2005 was released. He was the one primarily interviewed and we got to hear his side of the conflict. Silly thing, really, but Belkan parents tell their children stories about these two pilots to scare them."

"Interesting…" Mihaly said, working to take the new information into consideration. He quickly left the hangar, but not before thanking Schroeder for sharing the information. It wasn't much to go off of, but it did make it easier to figure out where he needed to look for information on this Solo Wing. Mihaly figured that this new pilot, an Osean hotshot it would seem, was likely trained by the Demon Lord's wingman. He couldn't know for sure this soon, but he'd find out who this pilot was soon enough. Mihaly liked having some sense of who he was facing in the air, and putting a face to the three strikes was now his own personal mission. And now he had a lead in his own little investigation. He was never much of an intelligence officer, but he had some colleagues that he could ask.

Mihaly exited the hangar and sat down in the chair he had set up outside of it, surveying the area. Sol Squadron's planes were lined up outside, while his own aircraft had been locked away in the hangar to gather the last of the flight data that had been recorded. Nearby, the Erusean transport plane that the King's daughter travelled on was being loaded up while the princess exercised her dog. Mihaly watched them carefully, considering the young woman was joined by his two granddaughters. Although Ionela was rather independent and graceful, Alma had a tendency to be the opposite whenever she wanted to. The child enjoyed roughhousing every now and then and Mihaly was tired of having to clean up scrapes she'd gotten or frequently buying her more dresses.

In some way, Mihaly felt a little guilty for spending so little time with his granddaughters. He'd promised their mother that he'd take care of them before she'd died and he did a rather poor job in his own opinion. Alma was too young to understand, but Ionela resented the war, and Schroeder, and on some occasions it seemed she resented him. Mihaly wasn't that bothered by it. He figured that the sky was all he needed. At least up there he didn't have to deal with the drama and politics behind the war or with a teenager that thought she knew best. Ionela and Alma were very mature and well mannered children, but that didn't mean they didn't act their ages once in a while.

He tilted his head back to look up at the sky. It was still dark blue from the previous night, but with the sun rising to the east it added several other shades. Oranges, bright pinks, and purples were the most notable, but before long all of those colors would fade away and be replaced by the usual blue. Mihaly took a deep breath as he kept his eyes on the sky. No clouds. Nothing but endless blue for miles. As he watched the sunrise, Mihaly couldn't help but wonder if his newfound rival had the same love for the skies as he did. Whether or not he felt the same rush every time he was given the opportunity to fly and had the same since of freedom. Although the questions were ridiculous and likely never to be answered, Mihaly still enjoyed going over them in his head and reaching his own conclusion.

_I'll figure you out, yet, Three Strikes. Whoever you really are. And when we meet again, I intend to be prepared._

* * *

_**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**_  
**0836hrs.**

Avril took a good look around the strange hangar, noting the F-15s that she'd repaired only just a few weeks before. The planes still looked like they were in good condition, the same not able to be said about Count and Trigger's planes. She'd been allowed to take a look at them the night before and she realized — not for the first time — that their planes were nothing more than worthless pieces of shit. They were made from nothing but scrap metal and other spare parts, so it wasn't like it was any fault of their pilots. What was the fault of said pilots was the fact that Avril was standing in a strange hangar after being stuck in a room for an entire day with no familiar faces around.

The day before, she boarded the transport plane with Tabloid and they started on a course to Tyler Island like they were supposed to. Then they had to land for some reason and before long they were back in the air but Avril and Tabloid were sent off in a different direction. They arrived at the LRSSG's base where Major Wiseman apologized for the inconvenience before separating her and Tabloid and sending them off to see a doctor. Apparently they were both suffering from malnutrition and Avril was lucky they even told her where Tabloid was and what was going on. Even though she hadn't known him for very long, he was the only friend she had and on this base he was most definitely the only friend she had.

Eventually, once the day was nearly finished, a man that she didn't know 'introduced' himself to Avril and three of the LRSSG's pilots (she only recognized Fencer) told her that Count, Trigger, and their dumbass AWACS had arrived at base. Avril asked to see them and Tabloid, demanding to know what the hell was going on, but they simply told her that they needed to speak with them all separately but that she'd see them again soon enough. When Avril awoke that morning, Wiseman came to visit her and told her to get something to eat and that she was free to visit the hangar if she wanted to. Overall, Avril felt like she was just back in prison at the 444th, just minus the dirt and awful smell.

Echoing footsteps brought Avril's attention away from her anger at the situation and her thoughts on the last twenty-four hours. She looked up and saw Wiseman, accompanied by two other men. Avril recognized Tabloid's lanky figure almost instantly and when he saw her he straightened up and rushed over. Avril limped as fast as she could and met him halfway. "Tabloid! Where the hell have you been?" she quickly demanded, looking him over quickly. He looked the same as always, dumb grin and all. Perhaps he looked somewhat more well rested than usual, but there was still some exhaustion that showed in his eyes. "I thought they gave us both some free rein."

"Yeah, but first they wanted to talk to me about McKinsey and give me an incredibly thorough physical," Tabloid replied, holding out his arms and looking himself over. He let his arms fall back to his side, shrugging. "Aside from being a little out of shape thanks to Zapland, the doc gives me the all clear." Almost concerned, he looked Avril over and raised an eyebrow as he took a step towards her and lowered his voice. "What about you? I mean, you look ready to kill someone so I can see how you're doing emotionally, but…"

"I'm fine. I'm in decent shape and aside from wanting to break someone's nose I'll be fine," Avril quickly said to him, glaring behind him at Wiseman and the new guy.

Tabloid followed her stare and turned around. He chuckled, his grin getting wider as he turned around to face her. "I've been talking with them all morning. Didn't Wiseman tell you who the older guy is?" Avril narrowed her eyes on the man she'd sort of met the previous day. He didn't tell her his name, just that he knew Trigger. Tabloid calling him old was a little inaccurate. He was maybe in his late forties or mid fifties, with light brown hair and dark brown eyes. In some ways there were similarities between this guy and Trigger. Avril looked back to Tabloid and shook her head. He placed his hand on her back and started to guide her over to the man and to Wiseman. "He was…umm…well, he's a lot of things. My parents used to tell me stories about him and his flight leader. In the air, they're both terrifying. And he's got a connection to Trigger."

The two, older men stopped their own discussion and turned to face Avril and Tabloid with looks of amusement. The man Avril had come over to meet smiled at her. "Sorry I didn't introduce myself yesterday, Miss Mead," he said kindly. Avril scowled as he continued talking, unfazed by her demeanor. "Your friend, Tabloid, has told me a lot about you. And your other friend, er…Duke or Prince or something like that." _Count_. Avril corrected him silently, crossing her arms. The man shrugged it off. "In any case, it's good to know that my daughter was in good company."

Of course! Avril felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. The eyes, the hair, and even the smile. She recognized them because she'd seen them before, but belonging to her cellmate and a dumbass pilot instead of a war hardened ace. "You're Larry Foulke," Avril said, smirking slightly as she held out her hand. He gave her a firm handshake and nodded. "Of course you are. You know, your daughter looks a lot like you. Flies like you, too, except she's more reckless and aggressive. No offense intended, but I've seen some footage and you're more…well, you follow a different set of rules than she does."

"So I've been told," Foulke said, glancing over at Wiseman. He looked back at Avril and Tabloid. "I hear she took on some badass in Yinshi Valley. Nice vacation spot, but I'd never want to fly through the place during a storm. Were…both of you there as well?"

Avril noticed that he looked down at the brace on her leg and she shifted slightly and shook her head. "No. No, I can't fly. It was just Tabloid that was there." She chuckled, recalling the story that Tabloid had told her of the encounter. "From what he told me, though, it was a pretty crazy thing."

"Really?" he looked proud and concerned all at once. The pride was obvious. It was his child and he'd heard about her doing something amazing. The concern was for the exact same reason. It was instinctive, because he'd heard about his child doing an amazing, stupid, and crazy thing. There was a pang of sadness and anger that Avril felt towards her own father, wondering if he'd be proud of her skills and yet concerned that she was now at a strange base with prisoners that she'd even go so far as to consider her friends. However, she pushed the thought away as Tabloid began to tell his own version of the story to Foulke.

They must have caught Foulke up on everything about Trigger in just a short while, with Wiseman putting in the two incidents that he had witnessed himself. Avril, however, wasn't pleased with Wiseman's presence although the other two appreciated his input. While Foulke and Tabloid continued to chat, Avril stepped aside and asked Wiseman to come with her. The major, although confused, obliged and followed her outside to stand on the ramp. Avril looked back inside to make sure that Tabloid was keeping him busy before she turned on Wiseman. "Look, I put up with you guys at Zapland but I'm finding it difficult to tolerate you right now," she said quickly. "I want to know why you brought us here, why you brought a former Belkan terrorist here, and why — so far — the only people I _haven't_ seen are Trigger and Count?"

Wiseman looked back with a calm expression and replied in a level voice. "You're worried about your friends. I respect that," he said with a slow nod. "Trigger, Count, and Bandog are fine. I'm having Bandog meet with our base commander about McKinsey and Count and Trigger are undergoing the same physical that you and Tabloid had." Avril nodded to show that she was listening, thinking back to the doctor that looked her over the day before. It had been quick and simple, like any regular checkup. She could understand that. What she wanted to know the most was why they were here.

Luckily for her, Wiseman was quick to answer her remaining questions. "We didn't bring Lieutenant Foulke here, he requested to come himself and added to the information that Bandog and Full Band gave us about your base commander, McKinsey. As for why we brought you here…" He sighed before continuing. "The battle at Tyler Island is starting to let up just enough to send in more troops, however Osea already deployed a unit to help them. There's a larger penal unit and a regular squadron from the OMDF that were sent out and they should be enough to get us the upper hand. As a result, the 444th was being sent into a battle that they didn't have to be a part of. The others were rerouted — very last minute — to North Point to regroup but I requested you and Tabloid to be sent here."

Avril narrowed her eyes. "Why?" she asked. "Why did you want us?"

"Well, I was planning on putting in a request for transfer to our unit for Count and Trigger," Wiseman answered. "When I heard they'd been pardoned, I knew their ranks would be reinstated soon but they'd just be sitting by until someone decided to take pity on them and give a couple of problem children a chance. I know what that's like, and so do some of my crew. It's not fun sittin' on the sidelines because no one trusts you enough to let you have an opportunity to turn your life around. Now, you and Tabloid are in the same boat as your friends. You're one hell of a mechanic. We could really use your skill around here. And with some work I think that your friend Tabloid could make a great fighter pilot. But you've just gotta trust us."

She crossed her arms again and squinted as she turned around to look out at the runway and the row of buildings that made up the rest of the base. However much Avril knew she should be grateful, it didn't change that everyone they'd run into had screwed her over. Osea had screwed them over, and by extension so had the military. But if Wiseman was offering them an opportunity to prove McKinsey and the Oseans wrong and giving them a chance to be more than a bunch of misfits then maybe he wasn't so bad. Avril sighed at last and turned back to look at Wiseman. "Alright. I'll talk it over with Tabloid. And Count and Trigger when they get here. But you can't just snap your fingers and make everything better. It's gonna take some time."

"Believe me, I've been down this road before," Wiseman said with a laugh. "I don't expect change overnight. But, if you don't mind, I'd like to speak with Trigger myself, though. I've got something to go over with her."

"That's fine with me," Avril said with a shrug. The two of them shook hands and then returned to the hangar to rejoin Tabloid and Foulke. She wasn't sure how she felt. The base was large and there was plenty of work she could do with their planes, but if she wanted a second chance it would be to just go back being a civilian and work with regular vehicles, like cars. It wasn't as fun but it would probably keep her out of trouble. _Ah, what the hell_, she thought. _At least here I can do some good. Besides, if I go then who's gonna look after these dumbasses?_

* * *

**0930hrs.**

Naomi let out a sigh of relief as soon as she stepped outside. She'd spent her entire morning being poked and prodded by one of the medics they had on base. After spending a good hour and a half with that, the doctor finally reached the conclusion that she wasn't suffering from anything serious. Malnutrition and a mild case of fatigue were what he had said before advising her to call it an early night and informed her that the mess hall would be told to give her a proper diet to get her strength back up. And just like that she was free to roam the base, surprised that they weren't being more strict with them. It was hard to keep reminding herself that she wasn't a criminal anymore. Well, not officially anyways. The General Staff Office was still reviewing her case and would reach a conclusion within the next few days.

As she took a good look at her surroundings, she noticed Count leaning against the building wall just a short ways from the door and smoking a cigarette. He looked up when he saw her and smirked. "I've been waiting here for almost a half an hour," he said to her, tossing his cigarette and crushing it with his heel as he took a few steps to reach her.

She looked him over and it seemed that he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, not that it stopped him from acting like his usual self. Naomi crossed her arms, putting on a smirk to mirror his own. "You didn't have to wait for me, you know," she said. "You could have gone on to the mess hall and gotten breakfast."

Count shrugged. "I…er…I didn't really feel like eating anything," he answered, perhaps a little embarrassed. "I don't like visiting the doctor all that much and it kind of took away my appetite." Sighing, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up at the sky. Naomi did the same. It was an overcast day with a cool breeze, making it feel closer to early autumn than it did to summer. Count reached up and scratched the back of his neck out of what Naomi guessed was a nervous habit. "It looks like it's gonna rain soon. Or, maybe it's just McKinsey that's creating that dark cloud…"

Both of them awkwardly laughed at the joke, making it clear that neither one of them knew what to do in that moment or with the rest of their day. Naomi tried to find some sort of conversation to have with him, but now that the deal with McKinsey was out of their hands and they weren't forced to cooperate with one another for the sake of getting through their time in prison alive, so there wasn't much to talk about anymore. She felt bad that she was a little upset that the drama and excitement was starting to die down. It made her life interesting for a month or so and now it was just gone. She'd probably be assigned to some random unit and never see Count or anyone from the 444th or the LRSSG ever again.

They stayed put in silence for a minute or two before they were approached by Fencer and Húxiān. The two squadron mates were dressed in flight suits that both bore the Cyclops patch, and wore much friendlier expressions than they had the day before. It was Fencer who spoke first, grinning. "Ah, just the people we were hoping to run into," he said to them. Naomi noticed that Count was uncomfortable around the two of them. She didn't know if it was just because he didn't trust him or he just didn't like them. Regardless, Naomi brushed her hand against his and gave him a reassuring smile. He looked to her with an almost grateful expression and relaxed a considerable amount as Fencer and Húxiān closed the distance between them. "How are the two of you settling in?"

Naomi and Count exchanged a look before Naomi answered, "Umm…well, we haven't had much of a chance to really get settled. Not to mention, we don't really know if we'll be staying long enough to even bother getting settled."

"Well, with the way Major Wiseman was going on at dinner last night it sounded like you guys had already joined the squadron," Húxiān said, stirring some confusion in both of them. Her face fell. "Uh…he said he was going to be bringing it up to you once the mess with your commanding officer is cleared up. I heard he wants to speak with the top brass about the two of you. A recommendation or something like that." The four of them fell into an awkward silence, one that was extremely uncomfortable as well.

Fencer quickly started the conversation up again. "You know, speaking of Wiseman, we actually came to find you on his orders." This got Naomi and Count's attention. "Remember how he'd told you that there were some people back at our base that would be waiting for you? Well, our guests are getting impatient and if either of you are feeling up to it then Wiseman wanted you to stop by."

The curiosity about who was waiting for them suddenly found its way back to the center of Naomi's thoughts, not to mention the excitement of who it could be. A part of her hoped it was Avril or Tabloid, but the chances of that happening were slim. Nevertheless, Count and Naomi both eagerly agreed and Fencer and Húxiān led them away. The walk to the other side of the base and to the hangars wasn't nearly as far as it felt the day before. It was still a several minute long walk, but Naomi wasn't sore or anything after it and Count didn't seem bothered by it either. By the time they reached the hangar, it was already starting to drizzle slightly and there was a distant rumbling of thunder.

They entered the hangar, which was full of activity like it was the day before. There was chattering, clattering, and even what sounded like someone singing to themselves while they worked. Looking around the first time, Naomi didn't see anybody she recognized. Tailor and Skald, the pilots from the day before, were the first faces that caught her eye. And they were talking to someone that was wearing a flight suit like the ones Naomi and Count had on. A dusty, green flight suit with a red band around one arm and a prisoner number printed on it. And even from behind, there wasn't any mistaking the messy brown hair and even some facial hair that was visible from the angle he was standing at.

It was Count that was the first to find his voice, calling out in disbelief, "Tabloid?!" The three immediately stopped their conversation and sure enough their friend from the 444th turned around with his usual grin. Count and Naomi rushed forward, with Naomi going the extra mile and wrapping her arms around Tabloid's neck in a hug. They pulled away, with Count and Tabloid exchanging a friendly handshake as a greeting instead of a hug. Count seemed to be shocked and happy at the same time as he let out a scoff. "Holy shit, what are you doing here?"

"Stick with Trigger, remember? I weighed my options and realized I had a better chance of living if I went after you two," Tabloid replied and winked at Naomi. Count rolled his eyes and Naomi shook her head with a laugh. He joined in before he finally offered a rational explanation, "Actually, it's a pretty long story, so I'll try and give you the short version. Apparently they didn't need us at Tyler Island and Wiseman wanted mine and Avril's side of the story so everyone else went on to North Point and we got sent here. I mean, not such a bad plan but I'd have dealt with it a little differently."

"Wait, so that means Avril's here too?" Naomi quickly asked and Tabloid nodded. She looked around, but didn't see her anywhere. Disappointed, she looked back at Tabloid. "Where is she, then?"

Before Tabloid could answer, and as if she'd been waiting for the perfect moment the entire time, a familiar voice called out, "I'm right here, dumbass." Naomi and Count both smiled as they looked to Avril, the Scrap Queen ducking underneath the wing of one of the planes she'd be working on. She was wiping her hands with a rag as she approached them, a surprisingly friendly look on her face. At last, she'd managed to limp over to them, tossing the rag over her shoulder and placing her hands on her hips. "It's about time the two of you showed up. We were beginning to think that Major Wiseman was lying to us about the two of you actually being here. They did show us your planes, though. What the hell did you do to yours, Trigger? It was in perfect condition and now its got a bunch of dents in it from being shot at!"

Naomi gave an awkward chuckle. "It's a long story, but I'll tell it to you later," she said. For the moment, she was just happy that she hadn't been apart from her friends for too long. Knowing that they wouldn't be heading to a place like Tyler Island any time soon was a relief and now she had more than one person to help her adjust around the base. That is, if she'd actually be staying. The three of them caught one another up on the events of the morning and the day before, and it seemed that even Count was as happy as Naomi was to be back with Tabloid and Avril. She didn't know if Count thought of the three of them as his friends or not, but if he didn't then he was definitely starting to warm up to it. Maybe with some time he'd be less prickly towards Bandog, too.

After a few minutes, Major Wiseman entered the hangar and their conversation had to come to a halt. He joined their small circle and gave an apologetic look to them all and said, "I'm sorry to interrupt." It was sincere, but none of them were too bothered by it. They were almost arguing about whether or not Tabloid really had any confirmed kills during their time with Spare Squadron, and Naomi wasn't interested in getting into a long, drawn out debate at the moment. Neither was Avril, so only Tabloid and Count looked even slightly upset by the fact that they were cut off. Wiseman, once sure that there were no protests, looked around at them all with a kind smile. "Could I borrow Count and Trigger for a moment? There's just one last person I want you to see. He's been eager to meet you two."

They looked to Avril and Tabloid, both giving them a nod. Count looked back to Wiseman and looked him up and down for a moment before gesturing towards the open hangar door. "Lead the way, Major." Wiseman was happy to oblige, and once again Naomi and Count were led away from their friends. Naomi glanced over her shoulder at them in time to see Avril and Tabloid turn away and say something to each other. The walk wasn't very long this time, since Wiseman only led them right outside the hangar. The rain was starting to come down harder now, and Naomi looked up at the sky, appreciating the coolness that the rain brought with it. Her attention was brought back to their visitor when Count placed his hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly to make sure she was paying attention. First she looked to him quizzically. He nodded towards where Wiseman had stopped and was waiting for them. "You'll never guess who the guy Wiseman was talking about is."

"Who?" Naomi asked him, but he didn't answer. She simply followed his surprised, borderline worried stare and stopped. Standing just a few feet away was someone she never thought she'd see again and someone that she was more than a little upset with. Now that she knew she wouldn't die and prison and now that she knew what he'd hidden from her, she felt a lot less guilt for being mad. Face to face with her was her father. The only reason she felt even a little bit of guilt was because he looked so happy to see her, and she was happy to see him again. Instead of rushing forward and hugging him like a child or instead of even a curt 'hello', Naomi stood where she was and blurted out, "What are you doing here?!"

The warm smile quickly curved into a frown and her father looked as though someone had just slapped him for no reason. "Naomi? I thought you'd be happy to see me," he said and Naomi drew herself up and took a step back. She was amazed at how foreign her own name sounded to her after hearing nothing but 'Trigger' for the last month, and although now she _wanted_ to hug him, she just couldn't do it. Her dad looked to Count and Wiseman in shock, even Count looking surprised by Naomi's behavior. Clearing his throat, her dad tried to reach out to her again. "I was worried about you. I heard that Spare Squadron was sent on a lot of suicide missions and—"

"And where'd you hear this from? Belkan Military Intelligence?" The words came out before she could think them through properly, and Naomi quickly blinked in surprise as her father stood there, stunned by what she'd said. Regaining herself and not giving him a chance to respond, Naomi looked to Count and Wiseman. "Umm…do you think I could have a moment alone with my father, please?"

Wiseman looked to her dad, who nodded, and he too nodded. "Take all the time you need," he said. The major looked to Count. "It's Count, right?" Count nodded, glancing at Naomi and relaxing instead of standing rigidly as if bracing himself for an attack. Wiseman smiled. "Perfect! I want to talk to you about something if that's alright." The two men put some distance between them and father and daughter to ensure that they could have a decent, honest conversation.

Once they were out of earshot, Naomi turned on her father, taking a few steps towards him. "I found out your secret. You know, the one that everyone in our family has been hiding from me my entire life," she snapped. She was going to say what she'd been wanting to say ever since she found out. "I knew you were Belkan. That in itself is fine. Why would anyone be ashamed because of what country they were born in? But I'm upset at what you hid from me. Let's see…oh, yeah! You betrayed allied forces during the Belkan War and ran off to some terrorist organization, you're an anarchist, and apparently both of my parents were mercenaries?! Oh, and not to mention that my brother and sister were both alive and well aware of what was going on in this time period and you all made the decision to just not tell me." The last thing she wanted to ask him about…the one thing that she'd started to figure out. It was a long shot, but the more she thought it the more she realized it could have been the reason. "That's the reason they immediately assumed I killed Harling, isn't it? Because of my goddamned last name! They knew who you were, and they knew who I was. I was the traitor's daughter."

Her father looked at her with a mix of anger and pity. When he spoke though, there was something close to guilt in his words. "I didn't tell you because it was for your own good, Naomi," he explained to her. "I didn't want you to live in constant fear that someone your parents pissed off during a pointless war were going to hunt you down one day. Your brother and sister had to deal with that. It almost stopped your brother from being a pilot and your sister wanted nothing to do with the air force as a result. She chose a career on the sidelines, which is what I'm starting to wish you had done."

"Yeah, no shit! Me too!" she exclaimed, scoffing and throwing her hands up in the air. "I was treated like shit at the 444th because of you, y'know that? In fact, now I'm really starting to think I was right. The only reason I was there in the first place was because of your stupidity during the war. And now _I_ have to deal with the consequences, not you!" Naomi usually wasn't so disrespectful towards her father, and a part of her hated herself for speaking to him like that. She loved him and respected him, but now that she was face to face with someone she knew to be a liar…she just wanted him to know how hurt she was that her family hid such a major part of their lives from her. The realization that they'd always have a bond that she could never share with one another due to what they'd been through together was hard to think about. Suddenly overwhelmed, Naomi pressed her hand to her temple and looked up at her father. "I just…I'm not ready to talk. I need to calm down. I'm stressed and I'm angry and I have McKinsey to take care of first and my friends and…"

She trailed off, starting to back away. "Naomi…" her dad started, but Naomi spun around and marched away, not giving him a chance to go on. Was it immature? Most likely, but she'd already said a few things she regretted and she didn't feel like adding to that list. Frustrated, and unsure where she was going, Naomi simply continued on her walk blindly simply with the intention to cool off. When did she get so angry? She thought she'd been over the information she'd found out about her family. Somehow, she pictured their reunion differently. There was more smiling and less arguing. Apparently she was more upset than she'd thought. Ignoring the rain that continued to fall, she tried to think of solutions to the problems she was facing. McKinsey, her dad, the whole damned war.

Naomi sighed and clenched her fists. _I'm tired of all this shit..._

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Now this was a fun chapter to write. We've got two chapters before the chapter for Fleet Destruction, and the next chapter contains a special little treat for y'all so keep an eye out for it! ;)_


	21. Confrontation

Chapter Twenty: Confrontation

|…|…|…|

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
_**August 6th, 2019.**_  
**1400hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Bandog sat in Major Wiseman's office with a worried look on his face, carefully observing his surroundings. Wiseman seemed very dedicated to those under his command, with framed pictures on his desk and walls of all of them after operations. Each time with a different group. But each one had a date written in the corner as well as a title written on it. One in particular caught Bandog's eye. It was Major Wiseman, Lieutenant Jaeger, a pilot Bandog didn't know, and then Lieutenant Hirose. It looked as if they'd just returned from a sortie. The four pilots were still in their flight gear, just outside the hangar, looking proud of themselves even if slightly tired. They were all so close looking in the photo, resembling a family more than a squadron. A very strange family that didn't look at all related to one another, but a family nonetheless.

However, before he could read the title or the date, the door to the office swung open. He instinctively jumped, but relaxed as the major and another man entered the office. Bandog recognized the second man. They'd sort of met earlier that morning. He was Trigger's father, the guy who'd caused quite a stir at Zapland when they found out the relation he had to Trigger. Bandog wondered if he should start calling her Lieutenant Foulke or Naomi, since that _was_ her real name as Full Band has so kindly revealed to him. But, it just didn't feel right to him. He straightened up, giving the two men his full attention as he nodded respectfully. "Major, Lieutenant," he greeted. "Good to see you again."

The older men exchanged an amused look, with Foulke having a more tired look about him. It was Foulke that replied, looking back to Bandog. "Respectful. I like that," he said. "However, it's _former_ Lieutenant if anything. To save yourself the trouble, it's probably best to skip formalities with me. I was never one for them anyways." Bandog nodded. Of course he wasn't. After all, he used to be a mercenary. It surprised Bandog that he wasn't eager to be called by the rank he was given, simply because it gave him authority and guaranteed a degree of respect. Nevertheless, Bandog would respect that. Foulke smiled at him and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Wiseman cleared his throat and both of them gave the major their full attention. "Now that we've got that out of the way," he said as he dropped a stack of files on his desk. "I'm here to…well, think of this as a bit of a debriefing. Please, take a seat." The dark skinned man gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. Bandog and Foulke both hesitated before they took a seat just as they were told. Wiseman looked them over before he continued. "The information both of you provided us should be enough to deal with McKinsey. Our base commander made a phone call to the General Staff Office about an hour ago and they want to bring him in for an inquiry. Chances are, he'll be sent out to the front lines where things are hottest shortly after being stripped of his rank."

Bandog narrowed his eyes at this. So McKinsey would finally know what it was like to be treated like nothing more than a pawn. An unwilling sacrifice. Bandog didn't voice his darker thoughts on it, instead simply scoffing. "So, the great commander gets a taste of his own medicine, then?" he asked, even though he could already guess the answer. Wiseman nodded and Bandog held back a somewhat bitter smile. _Good_, he added silently to himself with a nod. He shifted in his seat to get more comfortable before asking, "And what about Spare Squadron and myself? What happens to us?"

"Well, that's entirely up to you," Wiseman replied, glancing at Foulke. "I've spoken with the others. They were a little reluctant at first but have agreed with the transfer here. I mean, I could have just not given them a choice, but it's a team effort around here and I need everybody to willingly work together. We'll be working with the Spare pilots to refine their training and go over their strengths, and Miss Mead has agreed to work alongside our mechanics. So really that just leaves you, Mr. Guard Dog. You're welcome to stay here. I'm sure we could find somewhere for you to work based on your skills." He shuffled the files until he got the one he wanted, opening it up and skimming it. With a smile he looked back up at Bandog. "Airman Joshua Marsh…hmm…no offense, I think Bandog sounds a little cooler."

"You and me both," he said awkwardly, running a hand through his hair nervously. It had been ages since he'd heard his real name. Bandog was just what he preferred, and after a while he kind of forgot about it. Maybe this was how the prisoners felt now that they were returning to a regular unit. No longer would it be a custom to call them by their nicknames. Bandog figured he might as well get used to his old name, but it didn't mean he had to like it. Actually, maybe he didn't have to hear it that often. He looked at the other two and hesitantly asked Wiseman, "Umm…if it's alright with you, could you keep my real name between us? I'm sure it would just take some getting used to, but I kind of like the name Bandog and if I'm gonna stick around then I don't want people calling me Josh or something like that until I get to know them better."

Wiseman nodded. "If that's what you want. Only myself and the base commander have to know. Whether or not everyone else knows is your choice. Around here we like to switch it up a lot, though. At least Húxiān — Lieutenant Hirose, I mean — does it. I'm sure your friends might, too," he said. There was a pause as he read Bandog's file and then closed it, returning it to the bottom of the pile. He looked back up at Bandog. "So, with the name request, does that mean you want to be transferred here? I should warn you. It can get tough, even if you aren't a pilot. It all depends on how big an operation we have going down. It might be easy for the first few days, but you can get overwhelmed once things start picking up."

Bandog took a deep breath, considering all of his options. With the remainder of the 444th in North Point awaiting orders and Commander McKinsey being transferred and likely losing his rank, where was Bandog going to go? There wasn't anything for him back in Osea and even if there was he was too young to retire. Besides, the former Spares were going to need someone to help teach them how to act like real soldiers again. Wiseman was probably more than capable, but Bandog knew what made these guys tick and could lend a hand whenever it was needed. At last, Bandog was sure he wanted to stay. He nodded. "Yes, sir," he said with a nod. "I'm going to be staying. I've got nowhere else to go. But, er…what about my dog? You know, the Dinsmark shepherd they had in the crate on the transport? I'm not much of a handler, but I'd miss her company a little and she could do wonders for morale."

At this, both Wiseman and Foulke grinned and looked at each other. Bandog looked around at them, confused, and Foulke was the one to explain, "We've already seen her work her magic firsthand. A couple of McKinsey's soldiers were unloading the transport and that dog of yours wasn't happy about being muzzled and in a crate. So, Lieutenant Jaeger and the younger pilots spoke with the guard and they let her out. After a couple of minutes of uncertainty and hiding in the hangar, she eventually came around and started a game of chase with everyone. When we left they were all trying to figure out what kind of commands you taught her and tossing her pieces of some guy's sandwich as a treat."

Embarrassed, Bandog groaned and hid his face with his hand as Foulke and Wiseman both laughed. Figures that the first time the dog is around real soldiers she decides to act completely undignified and like a puppy. The military did most of her training, and yet for some reason they couldn't get rid of her weird personality. How was it that a dog had so much personality anyways? He tried not to smile, but the mental image coupled with the other men laughing made it difficult. At last, it died down and he had an opportunity to show his face again, although he was pretty sure that it was a little red. As they all caught their breath, Wiseman cleared his throat. He was still grinning as he finished explaining, "The base commander happened to be coming by to get me when all of this happened. After the others started pleading like children begging their parents for a pet, he finally agreed that if it helped keep up morale then I should see if you want to keep her around."

"Well, of course I want to," Bandog said. "I mean…I was a little upset when McKinsey first gave me a dog to add to my responsibilities, but she's loyal. Not much of a guard dog, but I think she can sense who the real enemy is." He shook his head and chuckled, recalling the way she would behave around McKinsey. "You know, it's funny. She never lashed out at Tabloid or Trigger, she ignored the other prisoners, and she always growled at McKinsey and some of his guards. Better judge of character than I am, I'll tell you that." The others nodded, still looking amused, before Bandog straightened up and put on a serious look once again. "Anyways…what about the rest of the squadron? How are they doing?"

Foulke nodded in agreement and leaned forward. "I'm curious about that myself, Major," he said. "I wasn't around when the doctor looked them over and I didn't read the medical report, either, but they all look exhausted. I've heard McKinsey was one sadistic bastard when they were under him."

"Nothing's wrong with them that can't be easily fixed. All of them appear to have mild cases of malnutrition, heat exhaustion, and a less serious case of sunburn," Wiseman said to them. "Bandog's in better condition than all of them, but that's to be expected since he wasn't a prisoner. Speaking of…" he paused and read over some papers on one side of the desk that were yet to be put in a folder, "...Tabloid, Count, and Trigger were probably the worst off. They already explained why. They've got some bruising from being manhandled by some of the guards frequently, though they apparently let up on them towards the last few days. Other than that, I'd say they'll be ready for combat within the next few days. Now that McKinsey's out of their lives I'm sure they'll be much happier, too."

Bandog felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he gave confirmation. Not that he excluded it from his report. He was sure that the others all had similar stories about solitary. Next to him, he saw Foulke tense up and take a shaky breath. Through gritted teeth and looking darkly out the window, he declared to his two companions, "I'm gonna kill that bastard, McKinsey. The no good son of a bitch won't even see it coming, either."

Wiseman gave him a look of understanding, but it quickly hardened to a more stern one. "I know how you must be feeling right now," he said. "But officially we aren't supposed to get involved. We're just supposed to get him on a transport and make sure he doesn't get a chance to contact anyone." After a moment, Wiseman looked around, and then said. "However, unofficially I think that we can let both Spare Squadron and you have a word with him. I know you all must want some closure, so for the next two hours, until dinner time, all security personnel on base are either on break or simply saw the Spare pilots and Larry Foulke saying goodbye to Commander McKinsey. So, both of you should feel free to get a little creative. Obviously, I'm not condoning some extreme violence, but giving him a little scare is acceptable to some extent."

Foulke looked to Bandog and then back to Wiseman. "Well, in that case…" he said. "If that's all you have to say, Major, I have someone to pay a visit to." Wiseman nodded so Foulke said his goodbyes to them, stood up, and quickly left the room. Bandog could imagine that the visit with McKinsey was going to be less than civil, but there was no way he was going to interfere. He and Spare Squadron had their own score to settle with their former base commander. For now, it was Foulke's turn, though. He needed to get the others together before they could confront McKinsey anyways.

"Well, anyways," Wiseman said, bringing Bandog's attention away from the door and back to him. "I'll let you go on and speak with your friends. If you want to have a talk with McKinsey then you can. The choice is yours, but I doubt he'll be conscious once Trigger's dad is done with him." There was a hint of a smile on the major's face, but it quickly faded and was replaced with a perfect line as Wiseman began looking over the rest of the Spare files and reports, becoming focused on that. He glanced up once more and nodded towards the door. Distractedly, he said, "Sorry…you're free to go. I've got to go over all of this for some paperwork tonight, so I'll let y'all get settled."

Bandog nodded and stood up from his chair, leaving the office after taking one last look of the photos of Wiseman's squadron. Carefully shutting the door behind him, he stepped out in the hallway and tried to remember which way led outside. He was sure that he'd find a door eventually if he just wandered around, but right now he needed to get to the hangar before Sarge caused any more inconvenience or embarrassment. As for Spare Squadron and McKinsey, Bandog decided not to do anything about it. They'd gotten their revenge. Now it was time to put it in the past. It was like Wiseman said. Trigger's crazy father seemed to have it handled, so why should they waste their energy?

* * *

**1430hrs.**

It didn't take Pixy very long to find where McKinsey was lurking. He was getting his luggage sorted out with the crew of the transport he'd flown in on. While the commander was busy barking out orders, he almost didn't notice anything or anyone around him until Pixy was standing right beside him. Startled, McKinsey turned to face Pixy, who gave a fake smile as a greeting. For a few seconds, McKinsey studied Pixy's face long and hard until a smug smirk formed on his face and his eyes lit up with recognition. "Well, I'll be damned," he said, crossing his arms. "If it isn't the infamous Solo Wing Pixy. You know, your kid has been nothing more than a massive pain in my ass. And she seems to have inherited your traitorous nature."

Pixy took a deep breath. He knew that Naomi wasn't without her faults, but she wasn't guilty. At least not officially, anymore. The General Staff Office, thanks mostly to Wiseman, Kathryn, and several other's efforts, finally ruled it as what it was. An accident, not murder. Pixy was fine with himself being marked as a traitor. That much was true. But his daughter was still loyal to Osea in spite of being treated like shit by her own country over and over again. Coolly, he replied, "I'm sure you'd know all about that, now wouldn't you, Colonel? Or would it be 'former Colonel'?"

McKinsey blinked in surprise. "I beg your pardon?" His expression quickly went from shocked to angry, and he drew himself up and stepped in front of Pixy. It was almost an amusing sight, because Pixy was taller than the furious man that desperately tried to seem threatening. The guy wasn't incredibly short, but he didn't scare Pixy. Not in the slightest. For one, he was a narcissistic coward that overestimated himself and for two, he didn't look like he'd be able to hold his own very well in a fight. Although Pixy was trying to come up with an outcome to a fight just in case McKinsey threw a punch, he still listened to the guy's angry monologue. "Now listen here! I've received more medals than you've probably seen in your lifetime. I've proven myself worthy of this command. I fought nobly for my country during the Belkan War and the Circum-Pacific War, which is more than I could say for you. Now just what is this 'former' bullshit?"

"You know, I've never been a fan of people talking to me like that," Pixy said, shaking his head and looking up to the sky. Finally, he lowered his gaze back to McKinsey. "I just wanted to tell you a couple of things. First, you're going to be walking into a trial in North Point. A bunch of Osean and other allied Generals sittin' around on their asses all for you. Erusea isn't gonna come and bail you out. We've got a couple of witnesses saying that you and your buddies were going back and forth selling information to the highest bidder. Man, you make my mercenary days seem honorable. Hell, at least I actually picked a side. May not have been the right choice in the end, but hey, you live and learn. Right?" McKinsey actually looked genuinely scared as Pixy spoke. A giveaway that he was right. Pixy grinned. It was his turn to look smug. "Yup. Colonel Matthews back at Fort Grays was confronted and he sold you out in a heartbeat. And the intel one of your prisoners dug up proves it."

There was a moment of silence before McKinsey chuckled darkly. "We'll just have to wait and see about that. You sound so sure of yourself, but I've got connections everywhere. Further more, it won't end with me and you know it." He crossed his arms, then looked around. The commander lowered his voice. "And they'll be coming for your daughter soon enough. The bitch got in over her head at the Lighthouse. I may hate her, but she _is_ a hell of a pilot. They know a threat when they see one and I already gave them the information they need. Erusea's gonna be singling her out in battle. Belka might even try and hunt her down. I wonder what would happen if they got her hands on her. I hear both countries treat POWs harshly. How harsh would they treat one who was a woman, hmm?"

He knew he shouldn't have done it, but McKinsey was a traitor who would be in handcuffs soon enough anyways and he wasn't Pixy's commanding officer. There was absolutely no consequence to it whatsoever. Pixy made a fist, and before he completely thought it through, it just so happened to make contact with McKinsey's nose. There was a dull thud and an almost faint crunch as well and McKinsey staggered backwards from the blow, clutching his face with his hand. The transport crew didn't even bat an eye. In fact, they almost looked pleased by it. McKinsey looked up at him, eyes watering slightly and his face red with anger. When he pulled his hand back from his nose, blood was trickling down. Pixy unclenched his fist and sighed, feeling much better than he had. But he still had a few things to say.

As McKinsey tried to back away, staring in shock at the blood that had gotten on his hands, Pixy grabbed his shirt and drew him in close as if he was preparing to punch him again. Instead, he just held him in place, lowering his own voice to what he'd describe as a snarl. "After surviving so long without your soldiers tearing you apart, looks like you think you're invincible. You're not invincible and you don't deserve to be called a leader. You're a tyrant, and sooner or later they always get what's coming to them," he said quickly, wanting to make sure that McKinsey still heard what he was saying while not giving him an opportunity to interrupt. "If anyone comes after my family, during or after this war, I'm going to hold you personally responsible. If something happens to Naomi, I'm going to hunt you down and I'll make you suffer, whatever the cost may be. Do you understand me?"

Although he tried to keep a defiant look on his face, McKinsey reluctantly nodded. Pixy, having everything out of his system, let out a sigh and stepped back. He let go of his grip on McKinsey's uniform and let the colonel nearly fall from the unexpected release. McKinsey tugged on the hem of his clothes to straighten his uniform out before wiping the blood away from his nose and staring down at it. He looked around before muttering under his breath to the crew, "Carry on…"

His work being done, Pixy glanced towards the hangar where the LRSSG pilots had witnessed the entire event and were chattering about it while they continued to play with Bandog's canine companion. Avril and Tabloid were standing off to the side, looking impressed. Beside them was their friend Count, who was practically grinning ear to ear. And with a blank expression on her face, Naomi stood leaning against the hangar door with her arms crossed. Their eyes met for a moment from across the ramp, but Naomi broke eye contact and pushed herself off of the hangar. The other three watched her leave with confused and concerned expressions, but she didn't look back. Count started to follow after her, saying something to the others, but Avril stopped him and shook her head. Even from where he was, he could just barely hear what Avril was telling the other two. "Give her some time."

As they all looked at Pixy sympathetically, although still in high spirits from seeing their former commander getting punched, he turned away and decided to head off to his own quarters. Looking back at McKinsey, he gave a fake smile that only caused McKinsey to scowl as he reached for a nearby rag and pressed it to his nose, which was starting to look swollen. Satisfied with his work, Pixy turned around and headed off in the opposite direction of Naomi. She'd probably gone off for a walk. She did that sort of thing. Apparently work and any sort of activity most would find stressful seemed to calm her down. So long as she didn't run into anyone while on a walk, it usually did the trick.

It hurt that Naomi had to find out about his past the way that she did. And it hurt even more that she reacted the way she did. He had no control over whether or not she found out, and he was coming to the realization that he was becoming less and less capable of protecting her. He couldn't protect her from her heritage, and unless he found a way to keep her out of the air then he couldn't protect her from the enemy either. Pixy knew all three of his children were grown up and perfectly able of taking care of themselves, but he still had a responsibility to them. At least the other two knew of the past and were able to move on from it over time. He didn't blame her for being upset. Maybe giving her some time and space was really all that he needed. Maybe she'd realize that he lied to protect her, and for no other reason. But she had to realize it on her own time, it would seem.

* * *

**Downtown Farbanti, Erusea.**  
_**August 7th, 2019.**_  
**1200hrs.**

After a long flight from the EASA facility, Rosa had been hoping to be given some time to rest and settle back into her responsibilities. But no sooner than a day after her arrival back in the capital, her father had made a lunch reservation for a meeting with several Erusean generals. The princess was less than thrilled, but seeking the approval of her citizens and colleagues meant that she had to be present for these meetings in order for her speeches to be accurate as well as any questions from journalists. Well, not all of the time. A simple talk from her father and a look over some notes was sometimes all she had to go off of during a speech. So long as she informed the citizens that the casualty rate was supposedly dropping thanks to the drones, everyone was happy. But Rosa was starting to get suspicious of the statistics she was oftentimes given.

But she wasn't supposed to question it. That was her father's job, and if the war with Osea truly was justified then it didn't matter. So she agreed to go to the lunch meeting with her father, not that he really gave her a choice. He asked her if she was feeling up to it, and if she'd answered 'no' to the question it would have made her out to be a liar. But her thoughts on the way to the restaurant her father had booked weren't actually on the meeting or the war or any sort of politics.

She'd have much rather been curled up in her family's library with a good book and her dog, Leo, sitting by her side. And every now and then she might get a text message from Ionela. She missed her friends. The visit to the facility had been…enlightening. Everyone there seemed to not care about the war, or outright disliked it. They didn't like talking about it unless they were learning of General Shilage's sorties. But in the last days Rosa had been at the facility, he'd been focused on studying other aces from previous wars in hopes of discovering who the mysterious pilot with the three scratches was. Even Rosa was a little curious. She knew nothing of aviation, she knew nothing of planes at all, and she knew little about the military aside from the politics behind it, and yet the way the General spoke of this pilot stirred some sort of fondness for the sky. She could understand why pilots like Ionela's grandfather longed to fly so badly. It looked peaceful up there, save for the war raging on somewhere else.

Rosa's thoughts were interrupted as the car came to a stop and their driver got out to open the door for her and her father. She pulled her gaze away from the window and the sky overhead as she undid her seatbelt and climbed out with her father. They were dressed like people with money, but not like stereotypical royalty. Her father was wearing a nice suit and a tie the color of the Erusean flag, whereas Rosa was dressed even less like royalty, wearing a white blouse and a khaki skirt. It was more casual and suited the occasion. At least she didn't feel like she was boiling in these clothes. Although she'd never tell her mother and father, she didn't enjoy wearing most of the dresses they had tailored for her.

Their bodyguard joined them, sticking out like a sore thumb. He reminded Rosa of the bodyguards they showed on movies and TV shows, dressed in a perfect black tuxedo and wearing sunglasses. He even had an earpiece to communicate with the other guards tasked with looking out for and protecting the family. This guard Rosa had known for many years. He'd worked with her father's cousin and then continued to serve her father when he took the throne. His name was Henri, and Rosa would even have considered him a good family friend. He reminded her of her relatives. Friendly and cheerful, but still focused on his job. Anxiously looking around the area and deciding it was safe, Henri nervously spoke to her father. "Your Majesty, perhaps the lunch could be rescheduled and hosted at the palace, rather than so close to the residential areas."

Rosa's father narrowed his eyes, but there wasn't any sign of anger in his bright blue eyes. He gave a warm smile. "Now, Henri, why the concern?" he asked as the three of them made for the entrance to the building, the driver getting back in the car to park it elsewhere. Or to likely take care of his own business. He'd be back within two hours, which was how long meetings usually took. Her father was always very lenient with the staff, which Rosa was happy for. He never treated any of them like they were lesser simply because they weren't wealthy. Rosa knew it was because of their own background. They didn't come from money, which is why many thought they were unsuited to rule the country, and they understood not to let the money interfere with their character.

At the question her father asked, Henri let out a sigh. They entered the restaurant and only then did the bodyguard answer. "Because of Osea. The last attack on the capital damaged many neighborhoods. They killed countless civilians. Had you and your family not been safe at home at that time…well, Lord knows what might have happened to you." Rosa frowned, recalling the attacks. However, after the pride of Osea's navy — the _Kestrel II_ — was sunk in their last attack, they withdrew. Without their mighty carrier, it seemed they doubted their abilities. Since then, Osea hadn't bothered them and all those that resided in the capital had been safe from harm.

Rosa would have pointed this out, having been quiet for some time, but her father made it clear that he wanted the subject dropped. The King shrugged it off. "It's alright, Henri," he said in an attempt to get him to relax. "I'm sure we'll be fine. The Osean military hasn't been anywhere close to the capital since we sunk their carrier. I doubt they'll just attack without any warning." They were greeted in the mostly deserted restaurant by a young man that was dressed in a suit and a bowtie. His hair was slicked back and he had a very quiet, mature demeanor. With few words exchanged between them, aside from the waiter bowing to Rosa's father and welcoming them to the restaurant, they were led over to a table where everyone else was already waiting. Henri looked unsure what to do, so her father thought quickly. "Er, Henri, why don't you sit at a nearby table and have some lunch of your own? I don't think you've taken a single break all day."

Henri reluctantly agreed and the waiter led him to a table to sit with a couple of soldiers that were accompanying the generals. General Édouard Labarthe, the Conservative leader, was the first to stand up as the King and Rosa arrived at the table. The others followed suit, respectfully bowing before the two of them. Rosa returned it with a proper, practiced curtsy before she sat down. Her father motioned for them to relax as he took a seat and ordered more ice water for himself and for Rosa. Labarthe looked at the two of them with a friendly smile. But it was the leader of their left leaning party — former General François Parrish — that was the first to speak up, solely to Rosa. "I heard you recently returned from the EASA site, princess," he said. "You got the grand tour and everything. Must have been interesting, seeing the work that goes into our drones firsthand. It's impressive, isn't it?"

"François, please!" General Labarthe hissed at his companion. "That's no way to greet the King's daughter!" Parrish was much younger than Labarthe, perhaps the youngest general that Erusea had. He was definitely straight to the point and didn't enjoy beating around the bush. That being said, he didn't appreciate small talk very much. Rosa could understand this, but she often didn't know the right way to respond to him. Most of his questions were never phrased like questions at all and he put her on the spot more often than not. He knew what he was talking about, though, even managing to convince Rosa and her father of the importance of using drones. Labarthe was always opposed to Parrish and his ideas, though. Rosa blamed it on being on opposite sides of the political spectrum, but she did feel like there was something more to their rivalry than met the eye.

Parrish gave a mildly apologetic look to Rosa and her father, which she responded by smiling awkwardly. As Labarthe and her father engaged in small talk, trying to rope Parrish in as well. Rosa was here for business and for lunch, though, so she stayed out of the conversation and instead chose to admire the place they were dining. This was always her favorite restaurant. When she was much younger and her parents often worked days at a time for their money, Rosa always enjoyed the special birthday treat that was dining at the 'fancy downtown restaurant' as she called it, never caring much to say its full name. Of course, that wasn't its actual name. La Rose Blanche was its name. The White Rose.

Her parents always joked that it was named after her, although she eventually grew out of believing that once she turned around nine or ten and realized that it was just a regular, expensive sounding name. The restaurant was lovely, though. Gorgeous glass chandeliers were hung throughout it to provide lighting, and it had sleek, marble flooring with orange and white rugs under the tables. The ceiling was painted to look like the city always did at sunset, and atmospheric, soft jazz music was always playing. On most days there was a band that came to play at certain times, but if they weren't present then recordings of their music were played instead. Everywhere that one could place flowers were occupied by the restaurant's namesake. Bouquets of them at every table and as many as they could fit without looking gaudy or overwhelming. And it always smelled of their amazing food.

Rosa's particular favorite dish to order was a croque madame. A variation of a delicious baked ham and cheese sandwich that was topped with a fried egg. It was delicious, and it was also nice to look at. They definitely knew the importance of presentation. It wasn't long before everyone had ordered their food and it arrived, the service at the restaurant being incredibly quick and always on time. However, most of their time was spent talking rather than eating. Eventually, the topic turned around towards drone production and the increased use of them and how it was providing Erusea with a cleaner war. Rosa delicately wiped her lips free of any crumbs with one of the monogramed napkins and washed her food down with a few sips of water, preparing herself for when they'd ask her of her opinion on it.

"The drones are far more precise in battle, and with the researchers from Gründer Industries helping program and improve them, well…" General Parrish was grinning wildly as he spoke, pausing his speech only to eat something and then picking right where he left of. Labarthe stared at him with mild disapproval as he eagerly continued. "They'll dominate the skies. Eventually, Osea will lose too many soldiers whereas we haven't lost anything that we can't replace. I think we should rush the prototype drones. Our last one — programmed completely from scratch with just General Shilage's flight data — was shot down over Bulgurdarest by that pilot with the scratches. At least, that's what the last footage it transmitted showed us before its signal went dead."

She looked up in surprise. "The pilot with the scratches? General Shilage told us about him!"

Parrish nodded and frowned. "Yes, well, he's been a massive pain in our ass. No idea who he is, but if Osea has any more like him hiding anywhere then we're all screwed. This guy and his squadron shot down a squadron of our drone fighters. I don't know how they figured out how to get around the fake IFF, though."

"Because, although it's impressive, it's easy to get around," Labarthe said, filling his glass up with more water before setting the glass pitcher down. "The drones, although they may reduce human casualties on our side, are pointless. They can be hacked, for one. And their fake IFF signature only goes so far for a resourceful squadron — as you've seen!"

Rosa wasn't sure at first if she should say anything, but at last decided to offer her own opinion. "And the drones still come at a cost to many humans regardless." Parrish and Labarthe looked at her, surprised, but her father simply glanced at her and allowed her the stage. Nervously, praying she wouldn't slip up and say something foolish about something that she knew next to nothing about, she continued, "We're using data from human pilots to program them. The data is gathered by sending them out into combat. The ace that we're getting this data from can only take so much. The drones are only as capable as a human pilot. They can't read the reactions from an enemy pilot. They don't know how to adapt. They can't adapt. They can only go as far as their programming allows them."

Parrish's face lit up. Labarthe looked impressed by her observation and seemed to think that she proved his point, but Parrish seemed to think the exact thing. "Brilliant observation, Your Highness! I'm glad you brought that up, since I've been meaning to inform you of this development." He reached into the jacket of his dress uniform and produced a neatly folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, he presented it to those sitting around him. Rosa leaned forward, seeing that it was blueprints. The drones on it were thin and sleek, looking as though they'd be agile. In fact, it almost reminded her of a swan in flight. Graceful. However, she knew that it wasn't meant to look pretty. In all fairness, it was a little scary how it looked like no plane that she'd ever seen.

Parrish seemed ecstatic about it, though. "The prototype that was shot down was an early version of this aircraft. However, our plan with this is that it can observe and gather data on its own. A more advanced AI than we've been working with. It's self-aware and…well, think of it as having a photographic memory. Not only that, but if needed it can transmit the data to other drone manufacturers across our country. So while we're producing more drones, they become smarter at the same time." Labarthe looked almost disturbed by this information, Rosa's father looked intrigued, and Rosa herself felt conflicted. It seemed a little extreme. Not to mention risky. "It can do everything a real pilot can and then some. Osea has good pilots, but all that skill goes to waste. The drones can take the data and adapt it, since they're more maneuverable than your average fighter. Take Osea's favored aircraft. The F-15 and the F-22. Good aircraft, maneuverable, and capable of a lot of things. But our drones can outmaneuver them any day. Not to mention the speeds this thing is capable of. High-G turns with no risk to the pilot mean that it's able to pull them off more than your average pilot could. Not to mention it can pick up speed afterwards within seconds, meaning there's little chance of it stalling."

Labarthe snorted. "So while I've been trying to think of possible, peaceful solutions to the war, you've been developing things to keep them going?" he said accusingly. Rosa tensed up, sensing an argument coming on. This was why she didn't like politics. While an actual war was raging on somewhere else, their government was waging its own war within, arguing about whether to fight or whether to not fight. But at this point in the war, it seemed a little early for peace talks. Labarthe disagreed, though. "The war won't last much longer, I'm certain of that. Osea's representatives have been willing to start peace negotiations. If you pull out something like that, all of our recent progress with them is going to go out the window. This war will go on longer than necessary and, whether you believe it or not, blood is going to be pointlessly shed."

"Labarthe, you're so stubborn at times," Parrish said with a sigh, folding the blueprints up and sticking them back into his jacket. "If we start peace talks on Osea's terms then we've let them win. Osea will continue to disrespect us and to invade our land and build more of their hideous projects on our soil. The Lighthouse…the International Space Elevator…do they think that everyone needs them to come and save the day? The world wasn't falling apart when Harling decided to build the elevator. We didn't need saving. Thanks to him, things actually _did_ begin to fall apart. Osea needs to be taught a lesson. They need to be taught that the people of Erusea — the people all over Usea, actually — are capable of just as much. We're capable of more than Osea could ever even dream of, and yet they overshadow our accomplishments every day. Drones are the only way we can accomplish that with a clean war."

"War is never, clean, Parrish," Labarthe replied. "Regardless of what you do, no one makes it through a war with clean hands. I hope that one day you'll realize this. You can't ignore reality just because it makes you feel powerful." With this, the subject was dropped as everyone finished lunch and waited for the waiter to arrive for the check.

Rosa and her father discussed the new type of drone with Parrish, with Labarthe only asking a few questions about it. She felt bad. The older general's words kept playing in her mind, though, as the afternoon continued. _War is never clean…no one makes it through a war with clean hands..._Did that include Rosa? Wasn't the blood on her hands as much as it was everyone else's? Just because it wasn't entirely Erusean blood…that didn't make it any more or less okay. But Parrish presented a good argument as well. Osea had disrespected them. But should they pay for that at the cost of innocent people's lives? These questions kept going around in Rosa's mind and she was starting to doubt everything she'd been told by her father and by General Parrish.

* * *

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
_**August 8th, 2019.**_  
**0645hrs.**

Naomi stared up at her plane and examined it carefully. Wiseman had made them all an offer to join the LRSSG during a debriefing earlier that morning. The others had all agreed to it prior to that morning though. Apparently Wiseman had a chat with all of them, but couldn't find a time to bring it up to Naomi. So he brought up the good news while informing them McKinsey had been transferred somewhere else to face the consequences of his espionage and stressing his achievements. Until Wiseman could figure out what to do with all of them as far as squadron placing went, Naomi and the others were left to their own devices and to wander around the base and do as they please. Although she was sure that her friends were less than happy about her decision, she chose the solitude of the hangar where her and Count's old planes were being kept.

Now that they were free of Spare Squadron and mostly from the convict title, she still found herself somewhat fond of her plane. It was beat up and so was Count's, so both of them would be scrapped. Chances were that she and him, if they were to fly with Wiseman's squadron and not just sit around as temporary replacements, would be getting new planes. Likely F-15s like the rest of the LRSSG. Naomi wasn't complaining. She'd be fine with a new plane, but she had a weird sentimental attachment to the F-2. Just like the old F-16, it kind of represented something in a way. She looked specifically at the tail, where the three sin lines were and chuckled dryly. She didn't even mind the sin lines anymore.

In fact, she almost liked them. They stuck out a little, but maybe with some touching up…there had to be some way to stylize it. Her thoughts drifted to different designs as she tried to picture something in her head. It had been so long since she'd used a pen and paper, but if she could get her hands on some then maybe she could draw something up. That was, if she still remembered how to do it and not suck. She never thought of herself an artist, but she did enjoy doodling. That's how her personal emblem came to be, after all. But Bandog said it himself during her first fight over Zapland. Prisoners don't use anything without supervision. Not even a pencil. The thing was, they never let them near pencils anyways, supervised or not.

As she sat in silence, she remained aware of her surroundings. That meant that she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye as someone entered the hangar. Actually, three someones. She didn't bother looking away from her plane to see who they were. Within a few minutes, she was surrounded by Avril, Tabloid, and Count. Count took a seat on a box beside her, crossing his arms. "You miss solitary this much, eh Trigger?" he asked. There was a pause and then he added in an almost teasing way, "Or would you prefer Naomi now?"

Naomi sighed, but she didn't look at him as she spoke, "Count, if you're going to just sit there and mock my name then you should just leave before I introduce your face to my fist." She then turned to look at him, keeping her expression blank in contrast to the smirk he was wearing. "Honestly, I don't think they'd get along too well."

Count almost laughed. "Jeez, you really do take after your father, now don't you?" Naomi tensed, huffing in irritation and glaring at the other two who were holding their tongues. As she looked away, Count suddenly had a much calmer tone when he spoke. Unusual for him. "Relax, Trigger. I'm not here to mock you or your name. In fact, I kinda like it. Naomi is a pretty name." Naomi turned back to look at him, blinking in surprise. She tried to search his face for any sign that he was kidding, but she didn't find anything. She hadn't heard anyone compliment her name in a long time. It still sounded weird, though. Even weirder coming from Count's mouth. He shrugged. "We just came here to talk to you. But if you want to be upset with someone, then it was Avril's idea."

The Scrap Queen huffed and placed her hands on her hips. "Thanks, Count," she said, most definitely not grateful that he sold her out. "It's almost like we didn't have that talk where both you and Tabloid completely agreed to said idea. But go ahead and sell me out to the person that just threatened to punch you. I don't mind at all." The two glared at each other like bickering siblings while Tabloid and Naomi both shared a look that said one clear thing. 'Idiots'. But Avril eventually took a deep breath and looked at Naomi. "We've given you plenty of time to get used to the way things are going to be from now on. It's time for you to stop moping around and holding a grudge against your father."

Everyone was surprised by how forward Avril was, but none of them dared argue with her. Actually, Naomi didn't have the opportunity to. She opened her mouth to defend herself and Tabloid cut in, "If we're going to be part of a real squadron then we can't afford to walk around with a chip on our shoulders." He paused and looked around to see if either Avril or Count had something to put in, but if there was a cue then they missed it. He sighed. "We get you're upset, but you found out about what your dad did a month ago. We figured that you were over it. And if you're not, then that's…understandable. It's perfectly normal to be upset about something like that. I mean, your life kind of turned out to be a lie."

Count nodded in agreement. "But your father came all this way for you," he continued what the others were getting at, once again keeping Naomi from butting in. "I mean, the guy freaking punched McKinsey! Hell, even I think the guy's a bit of a badass just for that." Naomi did manage to smile a bit. She hadn't wanted her father to see it, but she was actually surprised and more than a little pleased that he punched McKinsey like he did. She would have preferred to have an opportunity to do it for herself, but she was given a second chance by Wiseman and didn't want to blow it by decking someone who still outranked her even if he wouldn't for much longer. She'd have probably been thrown back into prison and given a couple of extra sin lines. Of course, five or six sin lines wouldn't be too big a price to pay.

"What we're getting at is that you need to talk to your father. Normally. Confront him," Avril said, not pleased by the extra input that Count had given. She was being surprisingly level headed. Of course, she still looked ready to kick Naomi's ass if she disagreed. She opened her mouth to continue, but then hesitated. Naomi looked at the others in confusion, but Avril just looked to Tabloid. He nodded for her to continue, giving her an encouraging smile. To her surprise, Avril gave a stiff nod in response and took a deep breath. "Look, the reason I ended up in prison could technically be seen as my dad's fault. And my grandfather's. My grandpa wouldn't let me join the air force after generations of pilots fighting all because my dad pulled a stupid stunt and got himself killed. I was upset. Hell, I still am. I hate my father for getting his dumbass killed and leaving me to deal with it. But if I had an opportunity to see him again, I'd set the grudge aside long enough to hear his side of the story."

Although she didn't show any sort of sadness as she told her brief story, Naomi was surprised at how open she chose to be in that moment. Even Count and Tabloid looked a little surprised. Mostly Count. Something told Naomi that Tabloid might have already heard some version of the story. After a brief period of silence, Count started to wrap up their pep talk. "Instead of feeling sorry for yourself, why don't you get off of your butt and listen to your dad's side of the story. You saw what happened in Spare Squadron when everyone found out your identity. Maybe he had a good reason not to tell you."

Tabloid nodded in agreement. "I saw how your dad looked at you, Trigger. I think that it's just as hard for him as it is for you. It's not fair that you're only thinking of you and the side of the story that you know. So give the guy a chance before something happens and you don't get the opportunity."

Naomi was silent as she considered what they'd just said. Admittedly, she hadn't been thinking about her father. Or rather, she had, but she only considered his reasoning and feelings to be selfish. She looked around at them and shook her head. "You three rehearsed this, didn't you?" she asked.

Count shrugged. "Eh, only a little bit. Most of that was improv." He winced as Avril smacked him on the back of the head for the comment. He turned to glare at her, rubbing the back of his head, and Tabloid and Naomi had a good laugh at his expense. As the lying died down, Count said to Naomi, "I'll have you know that that entire pep talk was harder than it looked. I'm not good at stuff like this, but I didn't want to feel like I owed you for your advice about Full Band's death." Naomi gave them all three a grateful look, patting Count on the shoulder. He looked embarrassed and suddenly stood up, getting back to his usual demeanor. "Anyways. Are you gonna take our advice, or are you still going to act like the most stubborn human being alive?"

She laughed and stood up. "Uh…well, I'm gonna take your advice. But, I'm doing things my own way." They looked mildly concerned as she started to leave. Over her shoulder she called to them, "Relax. I'm taking action sooner rather than later, but I want to hear more than just his side of the story." None of them said anything as she left, no longer questioning it. They probably already knew what she was going to do. This was only one part of the bigger picture, and she needed to understand a little bit more before she could confront her father. In any case, she was grateful her friends were so pushy. Or annoying. Or good at giving speeches. Either way, they'd already come a long way from Zapland.


	22. Sins Of The Father

Chapter Twenty-One: Sins Of The Father

|…|…|…|

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
_**August 9th, 2019.**_  
**1300hrs.**

|…|…|…|

With McKinsey gone, the mood among Spare Squadron had improved significantly. At least as far as Pixy could tell. He hadn't seen Naomi around since the squadron was informed of their transfer and McKinsey's ultimate fate. He was giving her space until whatever mood she was in was over and done with. If she was ready to come around then she would come around. At least, that's what he told himself. Even Wiseman had agreed that she needed space. He didn't know much about their family, but he said that everyone from the 444th was a little on edge and stressed out and was still getting used to being out of that situation. It would be a while before any of them were completely adjusted. That explained why they'd all been keeping their distance from the LRSSG pilots and mingling with each other. Bandog was the only one who was starting to come around.

Having nothing going on and unable to convince Wiseman to give him something to do around base (he'd been told to relax for a little while every time he brought it up), Pixy was left to hang around base and watch everyone else work or stay in his room. He'd chosen to go for a walk that morning, then he went to lunch like everyone else, and now he was back on another walk. However, this time he was going to end it at his room. Maybe he could read a little or make a call back home to Osea. His wife was probably worrying. He'd told her that Naomi was going to be pardoned, but that was a few days before. She warned him that their daughter would probably be upset with him, and of course he expected the exact opposite. And of course he was wrong.

He'd only been back in his room for a few minutes, searching through his bag for his phone. The longer he looked, the more he realized that there were several people he promised to keep in touch with when he went to Usea. Cipher, his wife Emma, his daughter, his son, Kathryn and everyone else that knew Naomi back at Fort Grays. He was sure that Emma probably told Cipher and Samantha about how Naomi was doing, but Roland and everyone else would be in the dark about it. He knew that Knocker and Clown were especially concerned. Pixy, somewhat frustrated by how he hadn't packed more neatly, was trying to make a mental list about which order to call and who not to call. A soft knock at the door, however, shook him from his thoughts.

Glaring at his bag with a sigh, he was almost relieved by the interruption. He quickly crossed his room and opened the door, surprised by who he saw standing there. Naomi shifted nervously, looking up at him with a sad somewhat guilty look on her face. "Hi, Dad…" she greeted in a soft voice. Pixy didn't know what to say at first. The last time he saw her she just ignored him. Now she looked like she had when they'd been reunited in Osea shortly before her trial. The silence wasn't awkward, but he was glad when Naomi broke it again. "Umm…can I come in? I want to talk about, er…well, Belka I suppose. I mean, not specifically about Belka, but the fact that our entire family is Belkan. And that's probably a really weird way to put it…" She trailed off, fidgeting with her hands and looking around to avoid eye contact.

Pixy stepped aside without a word, trying to think about what he was supposed to say to her. Naomi slowly stepped inside and Pixy closed the door behind him. She took a good look around the room, her back turned to him, and Pixy knew that she was just taking in her surroundings to gather her own thoughts. But Pixy figured out what to say first. Well, not exactly figured out, but he got a way to start the discussion. "Um, Naomi, look. We had good reason to hide all of this from you. It's not fun living in a world where everyone, even other Belkans, are out to get you just because of your blood. At least, it's not fun knowing you live in a world like that. We wanted you to have a normal life."

"Yeah, so you keep telling me," Naomi murmured. She turned around and hesitated for a moment before blurting out, "Look, I watched the documentary. Well, I'm pretty sure it was the right one. Count told me about it. I had to Google it, but it wasn't too hard to find online. And then of course I read about the Belkan War to brush up on that and about A World With No Boundaries and everything that was supposed to be accomplished, and I have more questions than I do answers, but I'm not here to talk about that. Obviously…" Most of what she said was all at once, with her barely taking a breath. He'd never seen her so nervous. Well, she was nervous about her trial, but not nearly this stressed out about it. "I just…I had a talk with my…er…friends. Yeah, I think I can call them that now…anyway, they suggested I hear your side of the story. I have _some_ of the bigger picture and I'm ready to listen to you."

He looked her over for a moment. This wasn't going to be as easy as he thought it would be. "Okay…" Pixy said, taking a deep breath. He motioned for Naomi to sit down and she took a seat on the bed, moving his bag over and staring up at him. Once he was sure that she was really listening and he had a non-sugarcoated version, he began his explanation. "I'm going to take you back a few years before the war. The politics behind the war are well known, but I'll come to that later. I grew up in South Belka. Well, it isn't South Belka anymore. Anyways…the Foulke family history goes all the way back to the Osean War when the Belkan Air Force began using aircraft. One of the best aces the BAF had was my great-great-great-grandfather. But, that's a different story. From then on out, all the men in the Foulke family followed in his footsteps and joined the air force. That makes you the first female member of the Foulke family to join the military as a pilot and not as a doctor or something else to that effect.

"Long before the Belkan War started, Osea would continue to advance into Belkan territory. Our leaders either sold off or gave away our land. When I was about nine or ten, we were stationed at a Belkan base. This was a base full of civilians as well as soldiers. My father was supposed to join his squadron in an attempt to drive off the Osean fighters and ground troops, but he disobeyed orders and abandoned his post. That marked him as a traitor." He paused, recalling that day. It wasn't pleasant day. Not at all. "He found my mother and I and tried to join the evacuation with us, but the Belkan soldiers received orders not to let him out. One thing you should know about Belkans is that one thing they value above all else is honor. This means undying loyalty to your country and — should you choose to serve — your military.

"Word broke out quickly around base that my father was AWOL and they weren't to let him through the checkpoint. With a dogfight going on overhead, things got ugly. My father tried and failed to negotiate with the soldier and eventually the Oseans set their sights on the Belkan ground troops. A plane went down near us, and they took out the truck that the soldiers had set up. My parents were killed by the explosion, probably hit by debris. I don't remember what happened after that because I woke up in a hospital in the capital about a day or two later. When I recovered, I was put in an orphanage and placed in foster homes until I aged out." Pixy noted the horrified and saddened look on his daughter's face. This only cemented his belief that it was for her own good that he'd waited to tell her the story. "Now, all of this is important because I came to a conclusion. And a realization. The reason that Osea attacked that day was because of a dispute over borders. In my eyes, all that countries and boundaries brought was chaos and animosity.

"I wanted to continue the family tradition. I wanted to be a pilot, but I decided at a young age that I wouldn't serve one country. My loyalty was to myself alone, and no country or government. I applied for the Belkan Air Force as an officer just to pay for college and get through flight training. Before I officially completed my training, I left. Your mother agreed to come with me, if only for the sake of your brother and sister. Unlike me, she was a patriotic Belkan that just didn't agree with the war. We both became mercenaries. I managed to scrape up a good reputation as a pilot and your mother as a mechanic, believe it or not." He managed to smile a little at the memory. They were a strange family. Pixy quickly brought himself back on topic. "Before long I was stationed at Valais Air Base when Ustio hired me and a few others as pilots to help them with the war. We were there through most of the war until…well, until I left. I figured our job was over until they kept sending us out more and more. In that time, my flight lead, Cipher, gained the title of Demon Lord.

"The real turning point for me came when Hoffnung was bombed indiscriminately by our own allies. I realized that I had helped to cause the same destruction and chaos that I'd gone through as a kid, and I knew then that I had to leave and try and put a stop to the war in my own way. Betraying my buddy was one of the hardest things I ever did, but I knew that there wasn't any use fighting for a cause I didn't believe in. I knew that Cipher would come after me or try and reason with me, so I made it clear that our alliance was over. Like an idiot I made an enemy out of my best friend and he repaid me by doing the same. Thankfully he didn't blame your mom or siblings. In fact, after I left he took care of them and made sure that the others at base didn't treat them badly. I'm grateful for that." Naomi seemed to lighten up knowing that not everything was all doom and gloom during the war. But Pixy wasn't done. "In the end, my actions when I was on my own only caused more hatred. I figured that if we started over from the beginning, that the newer generation would be able to put right the mistakes we've made, but it would have killed more lives than it saved. The world would have never recovered properly. But Cipher stopped me and left me to pay for my actions."

Naomi nodded slowly. "The documentary…you said you should have died. Was that the punishment you wanted or just what you deserved?"

Pixy winced. "What I deserved. But God must have had mercy on me. I know Cipher didn't. He believed I was dead and he moved on with his life." He shrugged. "Anyways. I eventually realized some flaw in my plan. After I recovered from the wreck a few months later, I tracked down your mother. Needless to say, she was happy I wasn't really dead but Cipher didn't find out until a few years later, but he stayed in touch with your mom. About a year after the war ended, your mom told me she was pregnant again. I was fine with this. In fact, I was overjoyed. But after seeing the damage that the Belkan War did to your brother and sister, how they constantly were singled out for their accent and name until we moved and then how nervous they were in Osea. We all lived looking over our shoulder in fear that someone with ties to Belka would recognize us, and take us out for being traitors. Your mother and I both decided that we wouldn't tell you about your heritage. You grew up with a better life than we could ever dream of."

He noticed that Naomi's eyes were starting to water a little bit, but she simply took a deep breath and wiped away the water. "I thought you had more selfish reasons. I figured that you and Mom were ashamed of your past so you lied to me so that I wouldn't be ashamed of you too."

"We did it to protect you," Pixy said firmly. "There wasn't any other reason. At least, I can't speak for your mother. I didn't hide that _I_ was Belkan from you because being Belkan isn't the problem. The problem is other Belkans and even non-Belkans knowing that you are. The name was always a problem, but only a few people seemed to remember and they didn't hold it against you." He paused and looked out the window. "But now everything we did to protect you isn't worth anything. I hate to admit it, but there's nothing I can do to help you. This war…I don't want a part of it. I'm only here because I needed to help prove that you didn't kill Harling. Now you're free to continue your career and I can leave."

"Dad, could you stay? I'm sure we can find something for you to do. I'll talk to Wiseman about it," Naomi said quickly. She sighed. "It's just…after everything that happened, I feel like I owe it to you not to push you away. I've been told I fly like a maniac, so maybe you could give me some advice." Both of them chuckled.

"Okay. Fine. I'll stick around. But only a little bit longer." Naomi smiled at this and stood up, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He returned it with a small smile.

When they pulled away, Naomi had one last thing to say. "Okay, but how'd you get the nickname Solo Wing? The documentary didn't explain it and they didn't go into a lot of detail on the article they had online."

"Oh, how touching. An entire article, dedicated to me. Definitely never had something like that before," Pixy said sarcastically. Naomi stifled a laugh. He shrugged and started for the door, motioning for her to follow him. "Come on. I have something to show you in the hangar. I'll explain once we get there. It's worth the wait, I promise."

* * *

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
**1355hrs.**

_So much for respecting your elders_, Mihaly thought as he made his way out of his quarters and towards the hangars. Several of the staff and other soldiers walking about were quick to notice the scowl on his face and made the wise decision to steer clear. All he'd done was requested all the information they had on the mysterious rival he was hunting down. They knew very well who he was talking about and, although Mihaly hated using that as an excuse, they knew who he was and the connections he had with the King of Erusea. Unfortunately for him, the woman he spoke to in Erusean Military Intelligence adamantly refused to disclose the information, stating that it would take time to retrieve such classified information and that the intel was still incomplete.

But Mihaly knew better. He knew they had agents working for Osea that they managed to buy out. In fact, he'd heard that they had to cut back on their information gathering operations or whatever the hell they called him because many of their sources had been found out and taken in for questioning. It was their own damn fault for recruiting Oseans, in Mihaly's opinion, but he didn't speak up on this. So for now he was left waiting until they decided they could share the information. Apparently they had other priorities, such as discovering what Osea's next move was. Their priority _should_ be the Osean fighter from Yinshi Valley. Every time there was a promising ace during a war, especially if they came from Osea, they always seemed to turn the battle in their favor. A weird pattern, but definitely something to keep in mind.

Mihaly's challenger was somehow connected to the mercenary from the Belkan War. He didn't know how. He could have been trained by him or related to him in some way. Mihaly's star pupil learned much from studying him, and it's possible that this Osean pilot learned from studying Solo Wing. His name…it was Larry Foulke, wasn't it? Mihaly thought for a moment. If they were related somehow, then Osea most definitely would have a record on it. He wasn't much with computers, though and he wouldn't even begin to know where to start looking. After looking at the flying styles and finding the first piece of the puzzle, he didn't know where else to go. Maybe if, instead of going through the proper channels, he called in a favor? Perhaps the King might be able to help him. Or someone else.

He stopped just outside the hangar, having been so lost in thought that he'd let his guard down. He cursed himself for losing awareness of his surroundings, not even realizing when he'd made it outside. Mihaly quickly looked around, taking in everything. It was another clear, dry day, without any sign there would be rain. Lounging about was the rest of Sol Squadron, going on about something undoubtedly immature that they found amusing. Further out was Schroeder's assistant, Massa, taking a break and entertaining Alma. Ionela sat in Mihaly's chair by the hangar door, enjoying the shade and looking at something on her phone. He shook his head. _Technology_.

A part of him regretted allowing Ionela to buy a phone, but it allowed her to keep in touch with her friends and it improved her mood significantly. He felt a little bad dragging them along everywhere he went, but what else could he do with them? There wasn't much of a choice. He sighed and walked over to where Ionela was sitting. She was dressed in a surprisingly casual outfit. Apparently she hadn't felt like wearing her dress that day, instead wearing a dark blue polo shirt and a white skirt. As he stopped by the chair, Ionela noticed him and straightened up in her seat, pulling out the earbuds she'd been using to listen to music and looking up at him. "Grandfather," she greeted. "How'd the phone call go."

"I've made absolutely no progress, but I still have a few more tricks up my sleeve," Mihaly replied coolly. Ionela only nodded, not saying a word. Her phone buzzed and she quickly looked down at it. "Are you talking with the Princess again?" Ionela, again, nodded in reply, typing something and pressing the send button. Mihaly found it amusing how quickly they could type up a response like that. It wasn't a real conversation, and yet they'd get so invested in it. "So how is she doing since returning to the capital?"

"She's been busy. Really tired lately from what I've heard. Apparently her father has been taking her to more and more meetings to talk about the drone prototype that Dr. Schroeder came up with." Ionela glanced distastefully over her shoulder at Schroeder as he worked in the hangar, out of earshot. It wasn't a secret that she didn't like him. Looking back at Mihaly, she almost frowned. "How much flight data do they need for a single drone? Haven't they got enough to work with? Alma and I miss our home."

Mihaly took a deep breath. He didn't like talking about their home. It was annexed by Erusea and it was nothing more than a distraction. True, Shilage was a beautiful place but he didn't have the same connection to it that his granddaughters seemed to have. Surprising, considering it bore his name and he had been next in line to rule it. But so long as he could fly, he didn't really care whether it was its own country or a part of another. It was very important to everyone else, though. He decided to avoid discussing Shilage with Ionela, instead addressing the drones and his flight data. "Things can always be improved upon. They've only gotten half of what I'm capable of to go off of. And the way a pilot maneuvers can change based on the situation. They need the drones to be ready for anything. I don't exactly see the purpose of drones and doing away with regular pilots, but I'm perfectly fine with helping. You're just going to have to get used to staying here until the time is right."

Something flashed across Ionela's face. Perhaps annoyance. If she had a smart comment to make, she kept it to herself. Quickly regaining her composure, she said, "Right…of course." She paused and looked at her phone. "And what of this pilot you keep telling us about? If he continues to take care of these drones, then what's the purpose in continuing and wasting valuable resources? I heard it from your squadron. He took down the prototype drone as if it was nothing. What's to stop him from doing the same to the other drones? Or to you?"

He allowed a faint, reassuring smile that disappeared almost as soon as it came. "Your concern is touching, Ionela, but I think that I'm more than a match for Three Strikes. The war is still in Erusea's favor and you won't have to worry much longer, I think." Ionela stared at him for a moment as if she wasn't convinced, but eventually dropped the subject and left to join her sister and the doctor's assistant. Mihaly watched her go, sitting in the chair she'd once been in. He wasn't completely convinced either, and he knew that if he let his guard down for too long then he might just suffer the consequences. But young, hotheaded pilots were easy to best in battle. Three Strikes shouldn't be any different.

* * *

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
**1405hrs.**

"Okay, so what's in the hangar that I haven't already seen before?" Naomi asked as she followed her father. However, she quickly noticed that they walked right past the main two hangars that were open and occupied. She made sure he wasn't turning towards them, and sure enough he continued on. There were more than just those hangars, obviously, but she didn't know what business they had in any of the others. They'd already passed the one housing Naomi's old F-2, so it wasn't that one either. However, her father didn't answer her question and they kept walking. Naomi didn't mind too much, though. She'd been in a good mood ever since she'd had that talk with him. Her heritage was still an iffy subject for her, but at least she could understand why he hid it from her all those years. Not to say she was completely over it, obviously it would take some getting used to, but at least Naomi didn't hate him for it anymore.

After a short walk, they arrived at one of the hangars towards the end. Naomi hadn't bothered counting how many hangars there were, having more pressing matters to worry about, but she made a mental note to take into account how many there were next time she had the opportunity. The doors were cracked just enough for someone to fit through. Her dad leading the way, Naomi stepped inside. It was mostly dark, and she could only make out what appeared to be the nose of an aircraft in the darkness. Her father casually strolled over to where the light switch was, but flicked a different switch. Naomi jumped as the hangar doors began to rumble open behind her, and she took a few steps away from it.

As soon as the massive doors were all the way open, her father crossed his arms and smirked. "Check it out," he said, gesturing lazily with his thumb towards the only plane in the hangar. Naomi did as she was told, turning around. There in the hangar was the same Eagle that she'd seen in a few poor quality photos or footage from the Belkan War. It was in as good a condition as ever, though. It held the same gray paint that Osea's F-15s did, except that instead of having a lighter, slightly blue tint to it, it was a bit more faded looking. Almost a brownish-gray instead. The right wing was a solid red in coloration, and each wing had Ustio's air force emblem rather than an Osean roundel. The tail bore the head of a snarling, ferocious red dog. She looked to her father, who looked very pleased. "This here is the same bird that's been with me from the start. With some major upgrades to keep it in working order."

"Holy shit!" Naomi exclaimed, jogging forward to get an even closer look at it. Pressed her hand on its nose and ran her hand along it, feeling for any signs that it had been in conflict. Nothing. Not a single scratch or dint from anything. It was in perfect condition. It seemed impossible, given how old the plane was. She'd have expected that it would have been scrapped at this point, going back all the way to the nineties. Even then, who knows what it went through before her dad got his hands on it. Naomi eyed the single red wing curiously before turning back towards her father. "Okay, now you've shown me your plane. How'd you get the red wing, Mr. Solo Wing Pixy?"

He looked only somewhat amused by her teasing, rolling his eyes at her and fighting back a smile. He didn't forget to follow through with his promise, though. "Let me take you back to 1993. I'm sorta the fresh meat in the mercenary world and I was hired by some remote country to help them with some minor uprising in their military. It wasn't big enough to go international, but they did need some help taking care of it. So I'm coming up on making my fifth kill. I'd be an ace after that and maybe I'd earn some respect from the rest of my squadron that I served with." Naomi listened intently as he told his story, and he seemed surprisingly eager to tell it. Obviously he had more pride in it than any of his stories from the Belkan War. "I get a little cocky and decide to face the enemy squadron's leader head on. He's probably thinking he's going to get me, but as soon as I get a lock I pulled the trigger. He turned to evade, was just a little to slow, and the missile hit him right in the nose. Unfortunately, I was a little too pleased with myself and didn't think to get clear of the burning wreckage that's flying at me. It clipped my wing and before I knew it everyone was shouting in my ear to bail out."

"You serious?" Naomi asked him, feeling a little immature for being so wide-eyed with such a simple story. Of course, it _was_ interesting.

Her father nodded, chuckling. "However, I was a dumbass kid and told them not to be so dramatic. I stabilized my plane and landed the damn thing without any trouble." By now, he was grinning, looking much like his younger self now that he had a genuine, energetic smile. "Let me tell you, I never got any flak from anybody after that. Well, except your mother. She was so mad at me for that stunt, I swear she almost strangled me on the spot after seeing the condition of my plane." Both of them laughed at this. Naomi could definitely see her mother that upset. More than usual, now that she knew more about her.

A new voice interrupted their conversation though. "So, you did something reckless and got yourself a nickname for it?" They both turned, still grinning to see Count and Tabloid standing in the entrance to the hangar. It was Count that had spoke up.

The two approached Naomi and her father and Tabloid decided to ruffle her hair playfully. "Yeah, that sounds familiar," he said. Naomi rolled her eyes and smacked his arm, taking a step away from him only to almost bump into an equally amused looking Count.

"Idiots," she said, scowling at them both. Her father seemed to find the entire situation hilarious, though, not at all bothered by the interruption. Naomi, no matter how much she enjoyed moments like this, was not pleased with either of them. She glared at her friends. "Thanks for interrupting…what's the big idea, anyways?"

"Naomi, it's fine," her father said with a laugh. He smirked, eyeing Tabloid and Count. "It's not like I haven't had an audience before. That story tends to draw people to me. When I first told the story, I swear at least twenty people must have gathered around to hear me."

"Besides, we had a good reason for interrupting," said Count defensively.

Naomi turned on him, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "Oh, did you now?" she asked and he nodded. "Well, then. Do share, oh great Sir Count."

It was his turn to roll his eyes, seeming to have a love-hate relationship with the odd nickname. Nevertheless, he happily supplied her with an explanation. "The base commander wants to see us. Wiseman, too. I think they might have figured out what to do with us, so hopefully we won't have to sit around and do nothing for much longer."

"Really?" Naomi looked to Tabloid, who nodded in confirmation. She felt bad just running off and leaving her father, though. She gave him an apologetic look. "I don't want to just run out on you, Dad. But…"

He shook his head with a soft smile. "Don't worry about it," he told her, motioning towards the exit. "You've got more important things to get to. We can catch up some other time. Now get out of here before the base commander changes his mind about taking you in." The three of them exchanged excited, almost childlike looks with one another before sprinting off. Naomi gave her father a quick abrupt hug and a kiss on his cheek before running to catch up with Tabloid and Count.

* * *

**1430hrs.**

It seemed a bit silly to be so excited for a meeting, but they had freedom and were part of a regular unit again. Things got boring when you weren't doing anything. So away they went, reaching HQ within just a few minutes. It took them a while to find the right office, but after stopping to ask for directions at Naomi's insistence (what was with guys and asking for directions?) they finally made it to the correct room. When they stepped inside, they found Wiseman waiting for them with the base commander and someone that Naomi didn't know. All three men turned to look at them as they stepped inside the room. The quiet conversation they'd been having immediately ceased.

Wiseman smiled at them, standing up and motioning for them to come all the way in. Tabloid carefully shut the door behind them and they took a good look at their surroundings. The room, where Naomi assumed the briefings took place, was much nicer than the one at the 444th. There was a massive paper map of the world on one side of the wall that had been pinned up, and across the room on the opposite wall was a window looking out at the hangars and runway. It was well lit, and the floors looked recently clean. The chairs looked more comfortable, too, having some padding rather than nothing but metal. Right across from where they were standing was a computer screen. It was much like the screen at the 444th, except it resembled a TV more than it did a screen for a projector. Displayed on the screen in the center was the LRSSG's emblem on a dark blue background.

This place still didn't cease to amaze her. High-tech, clean, full of friendly people for the most part. It wasn't a bad place. Count had a bit of a skeptical look on his face as he observed it, whereas Tabloid was a little more in awe. Naomi did feel as out of place here as she did around the rest of the base. They were still wearing their Spare Squadron uniforms. The three higher-ranking officers didn't seem to mind though, acting as friendly towards them as they would anyone else. Wiseman was the first to speak up. "Not a bad place, huh?" he asked with a bright grin and Naomi nodded in reply. "Well, enough of that. It's time you meet two of your other commanders."

They turned their attention to the two unknown men. Well, one of them they sort of recognized. He was the base commander, but Naomi didn't know his name. He was as tall as Wiseman, with a broad chest and shoulders and an older look about him. He had dark skin, and graying hair that was shaved into a regular, military buzz cut. When he spoke his voice was deep, much like Wiseman, but with a more serious and commanding edge to it. "I'm Colonel Hawkins. I think you already know that I'm the base commander here at New Arrows, though. From what I've heard, you three haven't had the best luck with your commanders. Hopefully I can break that streak." The three of them looked at him uncertainly, but Naomi had a better feeling about him than she did Commander McKinsey.

The other man, Naomi had not seen before. He was shorter than Wiseman and Hawkins, but not by much. He had hazel eyes and neatly styled ginger hair, with rounder features. He wasn't overweight, per se, although you could easily see that he had a bit of extra weight on his stomach. It wasn't muscle, that was for sure, but it wasn't all that big of a deal. He seemed as friendly as the other two, offering a kind, almost shy smile. "Er, you've never met me before. I'm Major Graham Lawson, but everyone just calls me Long Caster. I'll be looking out for you when you're in the air. I'm your new AWACS, but I also can make a pretty mean sandwich."

All three of them looked at each other with some relief, if not a little confused by his sandwich comment. Bandog wasn't a bad guy, but they were much happier when he wasn't barking at them in the air. Wiseman seemed to notice this, since he added, "Of course, nothin' against Bandog. He's a cool guy but he's made it clear that he's unhappy as an AWACS and we already had one anyways, so Long Caster is taking his place. Hope that's alright with you." Tabloid and Naomi nodded, but Count quickly looked Long Caster over with an unreadable expression on his face.

Hawkins cleared his throat. "Well, anyways. Now that introductions are over, I think it's time we get right into this meeting. We've already briefed the others, but it's going to take some time to get you all caught up on this." He held four folders in his hand, looking over each of them. Then he began to call out their names. "Now that you've all been returned to your ranks, I figure I should address you all as regular officers. Lieutenant Peter Hartmann, Lieutenant Naomi Foulke, and Lieutenant William O'Connor. Attention!" It was the first time that all three of them had heard their real names with a rank preceding them, but nevertheless they followed the order given to them and straightened up. It was the first time Naomi had heard their real names. It wasn't exactly what she pictured them with, but it's not like they had a choice in that matter.

They stood there until Hawkins was satisfying, motioning for them to relax. "At ease," he said. "I suppose you're more used to your nicknames, though. Tabloid, Trigger, and Count, respectively." They all nodded, though Naomi was fine with either one. She'd probably have some people alternate between the two, depending on how comfortable they were with her. Hawkins continued as the screen behind him started up, displaying a pristine, 3D display of the Usean continent, "Well, in any case, we've received official confirmation about what we're supposed to do with you. The company commander, Major Wiseman, has made it clear that he'd like all three of you to officially join our squadron. This is an unprecedented move, and without his and others' recommendation we might not have considered it. It seems like you've got quite a few people looking out for you. Still, based on how you've conducted yourselves, I believe that you'll be an asset to us."

The screen now displayed a zoomed image of the Usean continent, with the Osean occupied territory marked with a light blue and Erusea's territory with a pinkish-red color. It also showed a massive red circle with an animated arrowhead circling around. Blocking a clear view of the continent, though, were the emblems of Strider and Cyclops Squadron, with Naomi's personal emblem and ID photo next to Strider and Count's emblem and photo below hers beside Cyclops. Tabloid, however, didn't have an emblem. Instead, his name and ID picture was displayed next to Count's emblem.

All of the emblems disappeared and focused on a certain part of the map, showing a red barrier between the allied territory and the Erusean territory. Hawkins cleared his throat, motioning for the three of them to take a seat and listen. "Okay, time for your briefing. For a long time, our counteroffensive has been overpowered by the Erusean drones' auto-intercept system. If a craft enters their airspace and doesn't respond to their IFF, drones automatically take off and move to intercept their target. However, we've discovered that the system has a blind spot." A square disappeared from the barrier. "We have acquired this valuable information by sending our other squadrons on dangerous missions to scout in the whole area and initiate combat."

Wiseman decided to cut in, although Hawkins didn't seem at all bothered by it. "Of all of the pilots we sent out, only myself and one other managed to survive the mission," he said quickly.

Then Long Caster, for some reason, chose to add, "If we don't act now before the enemy can fill in the blind spot, those pilots will have sacrificed themselves for nothing. We don't need anymore casualties."

Naomi was surprised, not only by the information, but the fact that Hawkins allowed the other two to have the floor for a moment. Apparently he didn't mind their input, unlike McKinsey who probably would have court-martialed Bandog if he ever interrupted him during a meeting. Hawkins looked to the others as if silently asking if they had more to say, before he continued, "So, we've been ordered to carry out a long-range strategic strike. Operating separately from the main forces as the Long Range Strategic Strike Group, we've been developing a strategy in secret. Cyclops Squadron and Strider Squadron will sortie deep into Erusean territory and will be carrying out specialized long-range attack strategies." The screen then showed the LRSSG emblem and Cyclops and Strider's emblems once again. Then they faded away and started to show a route from New Arrows around the northern part of the Usean continent.

They all listened intently, Naomi being sure to note all of the locations that showed along the way that she could only assume were locations they'd be attacking. Wiseman pointed out the areas, saying, "Cyclops Squadron and Strider Squadron will sortie deep into Erusean territory, and we'll be carrying out specialized long-range attack strategies." The route ended at Farbanti, and he went on, "We'll carve our way through the territory from the north to the capital of Farbanti. Our goal is to attack and take out important targets along the way, gaining ourselves and our allies more territory to assist in seizing the capital. Once it's under Osean control and we've captured several of their leaders, Erusea won't be able to respond as quickly and it gives us more time to regroup and resupply once the operation is complete."

Hawkins nodded and agreement and the screen now showed a specific area to the north, with dots and arrowheads to show the enemy's locations and where the LRSSG would be attacking from. "The first operation will involve striking the enemy's main naval force, the Njord fleet, which is gathered in Northern Usea. We've known for some time that there's a large supply base utilized by the enemy fleet in the waters around Snider's Top. At present, the enemy fleet is concentrated there. Naturally, they intend to attack Eastern Usea where Osean forces are stationed. If we can surprise the enemy with a long-range attack, we could potentially do devastating damage to them. Still, it's highly likely that their advanced fleet is prepared and has started to move, so combat with the enemy is probably unavoidable."

Long Caster stepped closer to the screen and swiped at it, having it zoom into two specific locations, showing the setup of a platform. Naomi blinked in surprise, impressed by the technology. God, this place is full of surprises. The AWACS explained, "We've verified the existence of a large supply base in the sea, as well as a medium-sized one in a valley by an estuary. It's a wide operation area, and there are a number of places you can expect large-scale combat, so we've set up a return line for replenishing supplies. Use it proactively." He swiped at the screen again and it zoomed out to show the entire operation area, highlighting a thick blue line right behind where their formation of fighters was.

"Any time you feel the need to stock up on ammo or make repairs to your craft, it's there," Wiseman said. He looked them over. "While aircraft and ammo can be replaced, the lives of our pilots cannot. We don't want any casualties out there. Remember that." The former Spare pilots — now LRSSG pilots — looked at one another once again. Their new commanders were much different from McKinsey. It seemed he didn't see them as expendable. He was acting like a leader should, looking out for his pilots before they even entered combat. Naomi recalled her first fight at Zapland, how she'd been told that the aircraft was worth more than her life. And yet here they were all valued like humans again. That was going to take some getting used to.

"Our counterattack has officially begun," Hawkins said. "You leave tomorrow morning to attack the fleet. Brace yourselves." His eyes lit up as he said that, grinning as the screen computer thing (Naomi had no clue what the right word was anymore) then automatically showed the formation's setup.

Naomi didn't bother stopping to look at it, and once they were dismissed by the base commander she started to follow Tabloid and Count. But Wiseman called her back. "Trigger! C'mere a minute and take a look at the roster. I wanna go over the formation with you."

She turned around, bewildered. Just to make sure, she pointed at herself and asked, "Umm…_me_?" Her two friends stopped, standing in the doorway to wait for her. When Wiseman nodded, she hesitantly stepped forward, looking at the screen more closely than she had before. After a bit of beeping, it displayed a row of photos underneath each squadron emblem. Two photos for every pilot. Their ID photo and then their personal emblem. Under Cyclops, there was Wiseman as the leader, then Count flying number two, with Fencer as three, and Húxiān as four. Under Strider, were the two pilots Naomi didn't officially know with the names Lanza and Skald as Strider 4 and 2 respectively, with Jaeger as number three, and…her name as the leader. She looked at Wiseman in disbelief. "You want _me_ leading Strider Squadron?"

"_What!?_" both Tabloid and Count said at the same time, Count sounding a bit more annoyed than he did surprised. Everyone glanced at them, but didn't pay them much more mind beyond that.

Wiseman shrugged. "I think you could do well. You've got the personality of a leader from everything I've seen. Quick-thinking, lookin' out for your friends, and you're not afraid to say what you feel needs to be said," he explained. "And I think you've more than proved yourself. Now, obviously you only command Strider Squadron. You still have to answer to me. However, you do get a shiny new rank." Naomi grinned, not sure what else to do in response. Wiseman smiled. "Once you clean up, take a look at your new flight suit. That reminds me, here—" he held out his hand and Long Caster handed him two slips of paper that Wiseman passed out to Naomi and Count, "—these are your rooms. We've got official quarters for you now. Trigger, I hope you're alright having your own room. We didn't have anyone to pair you up with."

Her thoughts went to Avril, or even her acquaintance Húxiān, both of whom she could have shared a room with. However, she didn't question it. Besides, having a little privacy wasn't so bad. The three of them thanked their new COs and quickly stepped outside, shutting the door behind them. Count scowled as he read the paper, glaring at Tabloid. "Dammit," he said, and Tabloid's smile quickly turned into a mile wide grin. "I can't believe I'm still stuck with you, Tabloid. After the 444th I was kind of hoping for a new roommate. I mean, no offense, but you stay up too late reading."

"At least I wasn't up all night terrorizing you with a broken radio," Tabloid countered. "Those last few weeks were hell."

"The 444th was hell," Naomi pointed out dryly, and they all nodded in agreement. However, the topic was quickly turned around to their new unit. Naomi was eager to fly again, and even more surprised that she would be leading Strider. It was exciting and terrifying all at once. Tabloid seemed happy for her, but Count wasn't too pleased as Naomi talked about it. "I'm surprised Wiseman had me down as number one. I mean, I figured we'd all be starting from the bottom."

"Yeah…surprised me too," Count said with a sigh. She looked at him, noting the distasteful expression on his face. He caught her glaring at him and forced his scowl into a straight line. "Just try not to screw up too bad, Trigger. I have a feeling that these guys are gonna make it difficult on us. Haven't you seen the way some of 'em act around here? Like they're better than us just because we're ex-cons." Naomi and Tabloid exchanged a concerned look, not saying anything. Naomi had noticed it when they first arrived, but it didn't seem so bad now that they'd become somewhat used to seeing them around. Maybe she just needed to pay better attention.

* * *

**1800hrs.**

With renewed confidence, Naomi entered the mess hall at dinner time. Although there wasn't anything extremely special about her flight suit that made it stand out compared to everyone else, Naomi was happy to be back in a regular unit with an actual squadron and her own rank again. The Strider Squadron emblem and the LRSSG's emblem looked badass, and above her left breast pocket was a patch with wings on it and her name and rank. Captain Naomi Foulke. It didn't have a bad ring to it. She could definitely live with it. And not to mention how much better she felt after a real shower. After having awful living quality at Zapland, it was refreshing to actually have a choice to take a cold or hot shower. Not to mention nicer soap. The LRSSG _really_ spoiled their soldiers, but it didn't seem to make them any less capable either. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing to have some of the comforts of home.

Talk about comforts. The mess hall was something else. They had coffee available around the clock, as any regular base would, with food that didn't look disgusting. In fact, it smelled amazing. Naomi was surprised to hear that the small town near the base actually happily provided them with fresh fruits and vegetables, even allowing them to order pizzas or burgers from some of the restaurants. They even had stuff for dessert. Tonight, they had the options of salad, mashed potatoes (that actually tasted good), and fresh crab cakes. An odd combination in Naomi's opinion, but she got a little of everything since the meals over the last few days had not been disappointing.

Grabbing her tray and a bottle of water, she thanked those helping out in the kitchen that had provided her with said tray and water, got her food, and searched the room for familiar faces. There was a lot of lively conversation, even the occasional joking around, all throughout the room. It reminded her of Fort Grays a lot. The room had a lot of natural light, and with the sun setting it provided a bright orange beam all throughout the room. There were photos on the wall of planes, and mounted in a corner was a widescreen TV that was broadcasting OBC. However, much like Fort Grays, the TV had subtitles since it was turned down enough that it didn't interfere with discussions.

After a few minutes of taking in her surroundings with a deep sigh of relief, she heard her name called from a table set up by a window. She turned to look at it, seeing Húxiān waving for her to come over. Sitting beside her were Bandog, Avril, Count, Tabloid, Fencer, Jaeger, Tailor, Skald, and Lanza, all looking curiously in Naomi's direction. She smiled and quickly made her way over to the table, taking an empty spot between Tabloid and Count.

She looked her two squadron mates over as she sat beside them, noting that they had also cleaned up and changed into their new flight suits. Count's hair was combed and looked less greasy than it had, and he'd trimmed the facial hair that he had so that it looked actually decent and not as unkempt as it usually did. Tabloid on the other hand had completely done away with the scruff he had, looking like a proper officer. Like Naomi, both of them had a patch above their left pocket with wings and their name and rank. Tabloid's read Lieutenant Peter Hartmann, while Count's read William O'Connor. Both of their flight suits bore the same Cyclops emblem on their shoulder. All and all, they seemed to have the same sense of calm and confidence that Naomi had now that they were officially settling into their new life.

Húxiān sat back down when Naomi had, giving her a friendly smile. "So, your friends tell me you've been promoted. Congratulations." Naomi was a little embarrassed, pretty sure that she was blushing as all the others agreed with their wingman. Húxiān continued. "Now, we know there are a lot of new faces to get used to. I know firsthand that the guys around here look intimidating, but trust me, every single one of your wingmen is really a big goofball at heart. Best case being Fencer and Skald."

Naomi looked at the two men, who both rolled their eyes at Húxiān's comment. Skald was a little intimidating. She was sure that he towered over all of them, easily the largest guy there. Seeming to realize this, he gave his new squadron leader a friendly smile. "My real name's Travis, but I go by Skald around here," he said. "I've heard a lot about you. All of you, actually. It's going to be interesting flying with you."

"Yeah, it sure will be," Fencer chuckled in agreement, eyeing Count. Naomi guessed that Fencer probably was more experienced than Count, therefore might have seen himself as more deserving of the Cyclops 2 position and therefore next in line to be squadron leader. Count probably realized this too. Fencer was a couple of years older than him and had more experience with the squadron, and along came a couple of hotshots, two of them taking important positions in the two squadrons. A little rivalry and initial discomfort was bound to happen. Naomi just hoped Count could set any hostilities aside in the air.

"You know, I'll admit that I was surprised when I heard that we'd be taking in pilots from the penal unit. Even more surprised when I heard that one of them was related to the infamous Solo Wing Pixy," Lanza said, taking a sip from the can of soda that he had. Naomi looked at him, raising an eyebrow. He was definitely the more relaxed guy she'd met, already having an extremely relaxed demeanor and a smooth, level tone. He smiled and took the same route that Skald had in introducing himself. "Like Skald said, it's gonna be an interesting operation. Jason Lanza, I'm Skald's partner-in-crime. I'll be flying as number four, behind this old man." Lanza smirked and gestured to Jaeger.

The oldest out of the group, Jaeger shook his head and gave an exasperated sigh, but he couldn't hide his amusement. "I'm not that much older than you are."

"Forty-five is old, Jaeger," Húxiān pointed out. "We're all in our twenties." Naomi looked around and it seemed that what Húxiān said was true. They were all surprisingly young, with Tailor quite obviously being the youngest.

It seemed Fencer noticed this, wrapping his arm around Tailor and putting him in a headlock and giving him a noogie as he said, "'Cept for Tailor. He's the baby."

Tailor broke free of his grasp and smoothed his hair, giving an indignant huff. "Nineteen is a legal adult in literally every country!" he argued. He looked at Naomi and her friends and immediately changed his attitude from annoyed to excited. "I'm excited to be serving with all of you. When the others came back from your base, they told us about how you took on Mr. X and his squadron in Yinshi Valley." His dark eyes narrowed on Naomi, almost glittering with some sort of excitement. "And my dad told me stories about your dad, Captain. Things are tense between the two of them, but he used to admire him back in the day."

"Oh," Naomi said, not entirely sure who he was. She didn't recognize his name. Tailor James Beckett was what was on his uniform. Weird name to have. Unfortunately it didn't give Naomi any more of an idea who he was.

"Alright, kids, that's enough of that topic," Jaeger said, picking up on Naomi's discomfort. Tailor relaxed in his seat, giving an apologetic smile as Fencer smirked at him. They continued their meal in silence for a minute or two before Jaeger spoke up again. "So, how are you five settling in?" All of them murmured something like 'pretty good' or 'alright' as they looked around awkwardly. Jaeger gave an understanding smile. "I understand that we're still trying to find something for Bandog to do. Long Caster says he won't be joining the AWACS crew."

"Er, that's right," Bandog said. It was only then that Naomi noticed that Sarge wasn't with him. Unsurprising, considering she wasn't exactly the most sanitary creature alive and she'd get fur all in everyone's food. "I've had my fill of working as an AWACS. The mechanics are going to see about teaching me a way around an aircraft, though, but if that doesn't stick I have no clue what to do from there."

"Yeah, and I'm not sure how I feel about having Bandog working on our planes," Count muttered under his breath, but Naomi, Bandog, and Tabloid all heard him. Even Avril gave him an odd look.

The rest of the afternoon, they got to know their new wingmen a little better, putting Naomi at ease. She had a pretty good feeling about the rest of Strider Squadron. Both Skald and Lanza seemed like good pilots, and Naomi already knew how she felt about Jaeger. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little bit like adding Jaeger to the group was Wiseman's way of keeping an eye on her. Obviously they'd all be serving together, but Jaeger was older and level-headed compared to Naomi. Lanza and Skald would also probably be better with someone they were used to in the squadron. She did wonder why not just make Jaeger the squadron leader, but perhaps if Jaeger followed Naomi and trusted her then the others might feel better about doing the same. She hadn't been up in the air with them, yet.

As the night continued, everyone eventually finished and excused themselves. Naomi and Avril said goodbye to the remainder of the group and started to leave Bandog, Húxiān, Count, and Tabloid to finish up what they'd gotten for dessert. To Naomi's surprise, Count tensed up, glancing out the window. Almost concerned, he asked, "Where are you two going?"

"The hangar," Naomi replied promptly, furrowing her brow in confusion as she looked at him. "Why?"

"Little late, isn't it?" Count asked. The two women exchanged a look. Count went on, albeit a bit hesitantly, "I mean it's almost completely dark out."

"Count's got a point," Tabloid answered with a grin and half a mouthful of chocolate pudding in his mouth. He swallowed. "It can get a little spooky out."

Avril smirked, placing her hands on her hips. "Yeah, I think that we'll be fine," she said, rolling her eyes. The boys didn't look convinced. Meanwhile, Húxiān and Bandog were watching with some sort of amusement, having taken a short break from their own conversation. Avril shook her head, continuing out the door. "Seriously, stop acting so weird! C'mon, Trigger."

Naomi looked at Count and shrugged. He probably just didn't want to be around just Tabloid and Bandog. Plus Húxiān. "What's got into you? It's a secure military base," she said to him and he frowned. "I doubt anything will happen. I'll see you guys tomorrow." With that, she spun around and jogged across the mostly abandoned room to catch up with Avril. She had no idea what was up with Count. He'd just been acting weird. It was like he didn't feel comfortable around any of them anymore. Whatever the reason, Naomi shook her head once she and Avril got outside. "I don't think I'll ever understand either one of them. Well, Tabloid maybe, but none of the others."

"Oh, please, even Tabloid's a freaking mystery," Avril replied with a scoff. In spite of their friends' concern, the base was more well lit than any other base Naomi had been at. A little odd, but it seemed they didn't want them wandering around in total darkness. She had a feeling that they'd shut down the lights once everyone went to sleep. As they made their way to the hangars as planned, Avril tried to make small talk. "Surprisingly, I get a room to myself. All of my neighbors are enlisted or civilian contractors, though. Not exactly the best company, but I've still got you dumbasses so I guess it shouldn't matter too much."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Naomi said with a small laugh. There was a cool breeze that night. Although it was early August, the air smelled like autumn. It wouldn't be long before the weather started to get crisp again. Naomi just hoped that the war wouldn't last much longer so she could actually enjoy a nice rest of her year back in Osea. At the very least she'd like to be able to spend her birthday or even Christmas with her family, but who knew if that would happen.

"So…I'm glad you took our advice," Avril said. By now they'd reached the hangar where Strider Squadron's planes were kept, and ultimately where Naomi's new plane would be. "You and your father, I mean. I heard you made amends." Naomi nodded. "Well, I hope he's okay with this weird idea you came up with," Avril said as she flicked on the light.

Naomi grinned, walking over to a nearby tool tray where she'd set the guide to her plans. "Don't worry, he's fine with it. Besides, I have an original twist to it so I don't think he'd care. Really I just want to see how it looks. If it sucks then we can just scrape it off." Avril gave her a skeptical look, hands on her hips as usual as she shifted her weight onto her good leg to stand beside Naomi. Naomi picked up the notepad and markers that she'd asked Wiseman for earlier that day. The first design was something she was particularly proud of to adapt to the three sin lines that she had. The second one was an outline she drew of an F-15C, and on its wing tip was a distinct red marking that eventually faded into the gray. She showed it to Avril. "We've got the paint and all night to work, so what do you think?"

"I think you're an idiot," Avril said with a sigh as she headed over to a box at one end of the hangar. "But it's worth a shot. Still, I thought you wanted to set yourself apart from your father."

"I do, which is why I'm only painting a little bit more than the wing tip and having it fade further along the wing. Keep in mind I got my wing blown off too, so I kind of earned it anyways," Naomi called back as she ripped both pages free from the pad, setting them down for clear reference. It would be a long and probably kind of fun night, but Naomi was willing to sacrifice a few hours of sleep even if they did have a mission tomorrow. Besides, if she made an idiot out of herself at least she'd look good while doing it. Not the best way to look at things, but it was good enough for her.

* * *

Author's Note: _Special thanks to GoofBall14 and TheGamerMarine76 for ideas used in this chapter. Hope you don't mind that I took a bit of a creative license with the idea, but now Naomi's got her own 'solo wing' and her official three strikes (the title of this story now officially makes sense). Next chapter covers Fleet Destruction, so keep an eye out for it!_


	23. The Siren's Call

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Siren's Call

|…|…|…|

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
_**August 9th, 2019.**_  
**2100hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Pixy sighed as he took a seat on his bed, having finally found his cellphone. It wasn't too late to be calling, he decided. They didn't eat until five in Osean time, and it was only three so Emma probably wasn't too busy. He scrolled through his contacts before pressing the call button. The trilling sound that told Pixy that the phone was ringing lasted barely three seconds before someone picked up. Emma must have been waiting for him to call for some time, considering how she sounded when she picked up. Quickly, and perhaps mildly irritated, she said, "_Finally! It's about time you called! Do you have any idea how long it's been? Days! And Cipher's been asking when you plan on calling every hour since then. I'm about ready to kill him._"

He sighed, smiling slightly and shaking his head. At that moment, he was pretty sure that he heard an indignant '_Hey!_' come from Cipher in another room. That told Pixy that everyone was still together for the time being. Once the summer was over, though, everyone would probably split up. There hadn't been another attack _in_ Osea, so it was probably alright if everyone went their separate ways for the rest of the year. Pixy did appreciate his friend keeping an eye on his family until he returned, though. "Sorry, Em," he said to her. "Things have been pretty hectic these last few days. And I couldn't find my phone."

"_That's because you don't know how to properly pack a bag_," Emma said drolly. He could just imagine her standing there, likely with some sort of smirk on her face. Pixy opened his mouth to protest, wanting to insist that he did know how to pack, but his wife knew him well enough to know this and quickly added, "_Rolling them up into a ball and throwing them inside with absolutely no order simply because you're in a rush is not packing, Larry. You have to plan these things out, and pack at least several days before you head out not on the morning you'll be traveling. We went over this thirty years ago and on the morning we flew to Aurick. I honestly figured you'd have learned this by now._"

"Your way is too difficult. Mine saves time," Pixy said with a shrug, surprisingly relieved by the conversation. All of the stress of the last week weighed heavy on him still, but at least things were mostly okay back at home. Everyone could stop worrying, including him.

"_Uh-huh. I'm sure it does._" There was a pause before Emma's tone became softer and she asked, "_So, how's Naomi doing? Didn't you say that they were transferring her out of that penal unit?_"

Pixy hesitated. He'd been hoping to stay off the topic of their daughter for a little longer, but he knew that she'd inevitably come up. After all, she'd caused quite a stir in their family. For a while, her sister wasn't entirely convinced that she hadn't actually killed Harling. She was easily the most aggressive out of the three of them. And it seemed that she had only gotten worse after being locked up. So how could he explain this to everyone at home? He took a deep breath and began to explain everything as well as he could.

He went over Naomi's outburst, her anger towards them all (specifically him), everything about her commander and as much as he knew about the 444th, and about how she now sported a new haircut (Pixy wasn't really upset about that, although he was used to her hair being longer). Then he explained how she knew most of the story and their reasoning behind hiding her heritage. Emma listened intently, interjecting a few questions mostly to ask how she handled their revelation. She had handled it surprisingly well. Then he told her about how, earlier that day, she'd asked him if she could experiment with painting the wing of her own, new plane red. She showed him a sketch she'd come up with for the idea, and how it was noticeable but not as pronounced as his. How it faded into the gray halfway up the wing. Pixy had agreed, but only after hearing that she had done something to actually earn it. Apparently she took a missile for her wingman, Count, and made it back to base with half of her wing torn off.

Needless to say, Emma was extremely concerned when she'd heard of her daughter's misadventure but Pixy quickly assured her that Naomi was fine afterwards and even took time out when she was landing to buzz the control tower. "_Okay…_" Emma started with a deep breath of her own as soon as Pixy had finished. "_That's…erm…well, it's different. Uh…verdammt…was zu sagen?_" Pixy held back a chuckle. Now Emma was free to revert to speaking Belkan without worrying if Naomi was going to overhear. Emma was always better at hiding that part of her heritage. Pixy honestly hadn't cared if Naomi knew that he was Belkan. It mattered very much to Emma, however much she still cared for the country. "_If you gave her permission to copy the livery and tweak it however she pleases, then why do you sound like you care so much?_"

"I'm just worried that she's not taking it the right way," Pixy replied, though in all honesty it just kind of rubbed him the wrong way. "She's taken those stupid sin line things that they gave them and turned them into something else. They used to just be lines painted over their emblems and tail code, but she made it look like eagle talons ripping through something."

"_But that sounds pretty cool_," Emma interrupted. Pixy nearly rolled his eyes. For a fifty year old woman, she hardly acted like one half the time. Maybe that was just the joy of being Emma Foulke. She could be extremely mature and lady-like one minute and then joke about beating you upside the head with a wrench the next. Cipher once admitted that she worried him. Truth be told, she worried Pixy more often than not, but that was a completely different story. Maybe he just missed her and her strange sense of humor.

"It's not the three scratches that bother me, Emma," he quickly replied. "It's the _wing_. However proud I might be of making it back to base with that thing and however much I love that plane…well, the wing represents the same thing I've been trying to get away from all this time." Pixy paused, beginning to question why he even got involved in the first place. Every time he said he wouldn't get involved with something, his kids go off and get themselves in God knows how much trouble. Maybe he should stop thinking they need him to save them. Maybe he should go home, but who would take care of Naomi if he left? Her friends were here. Wiseman was here, though. Maybe Wiseman could do a better job than he could...

After pausing to gather his thoughts, his wife accepting the silence until he was ready, Pixy finally admitted, "I'm in over my head, Emma. I don't know why I even came in the first place. I'm worried Naomi's trying too hard to be a different ace, not making a name for herself. And somewhere along in this war she's going to lose herself like I did. I'm not even sure that after being in prison that she hasn't already. I can either stay here and waste my time trying to stop something that might not even happen or turn my back on her and let her figure everything out on her own…"

"_You said you're worried she won't learn to be her own ace? And that she'll end up losing herself in this war like you did?_" Emma asked, and he simply gave a quiet 'mmm-hmm' to answer her. She paused for a moment, and he could practically hear the gears in her head turning. She was always really good at giving meaningful, however clichéd speeches. Emma was much better at 'mushy' stuff than Pixy ever was. After a while, she finally spoke again. "_Maybe you need to just let her lose herself. Think about it: you say you lost yourself fighting in the Belkan War, right? But you eventually learned from your mistakes and found yourself again through that. It took Cipher shooting your ass out of the sky to figure it out, but you did regardless._"

"Well, yes—"

"_Then let Naomi learn the hard way. Let her crash and burn to figure out that walking in someone else's shadow isn't going to get her anywhere. She can honor you in other ways, simply being a good pilot is good enough,_" Emma went on. Pixy was only able to sit and listen to her, realizing that she made a fair point. "_Naomi's made her choice, so now see how far it gets her. See the recognition that it gets her. I think it's a simple psychological problem, to be honest. It's not like I'm an expert in these matters, but she's a product of her environment. She had to adapt to life in prison, and now she's stuck in the mindset that aggression is the only way to deal with something. I think in some way, without realizing it, she thinks that your story is something to aspire to. You have a name for yourself, both good and bad. Naomi is still stuck as 'Harling's murderer'. Thank God she didn't see what got leaked on the news…_"

Both of them shuddered, remembering what the military had said about the situation. The news didn't cover it for very long since they didn't have much information to go off of. They knew it was an 'inexperienced OADF pilot' that pulled the trigger, and tried to fish for more information to no avail.

However, Emma didn't seem interested in changing the topic to something old and irrelevant at this point. Quickly, she started back up. "_She sees your red wing as a symbol of pride, something she can embrace as her own and be happy about. The sin lines thing…it sounds cool, but I can see why it would cause some concern. I guess you could take it as a symbol of rebellion and breaking the chains. From what you tell me, the 'sin lines' were meant to shame them and dehumanize it, and now she's turning them into an identifying mark and kind of saying 'eff you' to her former commander._"

"I see your point," Pixy admitted with a sigh.

"_That's good, but I'm not finished,_" Emma said, almost distractedly. It was like now that she was fired up, she didn't want to cut her speech short and wanted to focus only on what she was going to say next. So Pixy just let her keep going. She'd run out of things to keep adding sooner or later. "_For now, you're only encouraging her. You've always been soft on the kids. Perhaps a little too soft. Stop acting as her crutch and let her figure things out for herself. Let her learn from her own experience, instead of trying to protect her from everything when she doesn't need it. She's twenty-one, not four. Naomi's a grown up now and she needs to learn to cope like one._"

"You're saying that she's fine without me?" Pixy asked, but he already knew the answer. He'd just been denying it. God, why couldn't Emma be the overly protective parent? Wasn't the mother supposed to act like this, not the father? Hell if he'd know. It's not like he had a reference growing up.

Emma paused, almost hesitating in giving him an answer. "_Well…yes,_" she said slowly after a while. "_Look, I love the kids as much as you do, but I think it's time for Naomi to make it on her own. She's got her own battles to fight, and if you continue trying to fight them for her then you're going to hurt both of you._"

"I guess I should never have come," Pixy said. He sighed, then thought back to the information he found out at Fort Grays. He'd call Genette and the others later to check up on that. He could leave, but he wasn't leaving Usea until he was sure that the Grey Men weren't going to make a comeback. "I'm going to be sticking around a bit longer, I think, Emma, but I might come back before this war is over."

"_That's your choice. Honestly, you're getting too old for this, no offense. You should have just left it to the kids,_" Emma said. Pixy nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything. His wife took a deep breath. "_Well, I need to go start making dinner. We all miss you._"

"I miss you too," Pixy said. "I love you."

"_I love you too_," Emma answered. "_Good luck_." And with that, they said a final good-bye and Pixy pressed the button to end the call, sighing and tossing his phone back into his bag.

He didn't like admitting that he was wrong. Perhaps it was the ever famous 'Belkan Pride' that kept it. Not pride for Belka, but just being a prideful Belkan. It was common. Most Belkans he met absolutely hated being wrong, likely why it was so hard for the country to accept that no matter how hard they tried they would never restore their country to its former glory. But that was a different story. Right now, he needed to find a way to be helpful to more than just Naomi. He was back in the action and he didn't really want to leave. Surely there was some way that he could help…actually, he had an idea.

Pixy had managed to somehow fly his old fighter to Usea, although he was a little rusty. But the point was, he was still an ace and he could still fly. And he knew a couple of tricks that the LRSSG might be able to benefit from. He'd have to talk to Wiseman, but maybe he could work to help train their pilots. After all, they had two that were assigned to squadron's but left on the sidelines. Tabloid, and then PJ's kid, Tailor. It honestly baffled Pixy how PJ actually survived that one day, but it didn't really matter. His kid was eerily similar to him, though. And yet PJ got on Pixy's nerve. Why would he want to teach his son, that honestly was the spitting image of him?

Okay, so the idea had some pros and cons. But if he played his cards right then it just might be able to work. That way he could fly again, Naomi could learn to grow as her own pilot, and the LRSSG didn't have to worry about anybody not being ready for combat. Emma would probably be mad at him for it, since she had the idea that he'd be coming back soon, but Pixy never said it was anything definite. What could it hurt? _Sorry, Emma_, he thought, standing up to head over to Wiseman's office before it was too late. _But it's just too tempting an idea_.

* * *

**August 10th, 2019.**  
**0500hrs.**

Avril wiped some sweat from her brow and placed her hands on her hips, looking around the hangar at Strider Squadron's planes. Trigger's stood out the most, boasting a badass marking on the tail and a red wing on one side. Thankfully, neither really distracted from the other. Avril was still skeptical about the wing, and although it wasn't obnoxious or a direct copy-cat of Solo Wing Pixy's plane it was still enough to stand out. Of course, Avril knew completely that the three strikes would be what people would notice. She was a bit worried that her dumbass friend wasn't going to get the proper recognition thanks to the wing, but Trigger didn't seem to care about that. In fact, she could sleep easy.

After working from nine to about eleven, both of them had gone to bed. But the LRSSG's two squadrons were heading out in about an hour for an operation at Snider's Top, so everyone was awake and getting to work. The pilots that would be participating were grabbing something to eat before doing their final preparations, their company commander was going through and doing some brief inspections, and the crew of mechanics was left to do their job and make any necessary changes. Of course, Avril decided that she'd be generous and give each of their planes a bit of her own magic touch. They weren't scrap, so she had plenty to work with already and they would have probably been fine without her help. But now, these things had increased maneuverability, a higher top speed, and more durability. These things were indestructible without some effort put in from the enemy.

The special weapons that she equipped Wiseman and Trigger's planes with were interesting, too. Apparently it was an experimental weapon that Osea was working on with Gründer Industries back before and during the Circum-Pacific War. The Osean military decided to cut off ties to the company, but owned the patent for all of the weapons and aircraft that they'd been developing at the time. Avril wasn't very business savvy, but she knew that this meant only Osea could create and distribute the creations and Gründer was SOL. So Osea got newer, non-Belkan scientists and whatnot to help them develop laser weaponry. Avril suspected that Osea wasn't the first country to do this, though. Something told her that there was no way that Gründer Industries would give up something like that.

Regardless, the lead aircrafts of the LRSSG were equipped with a pulse laser weapon or whatever they called it. Abbreviated to PLSL, it was similar to a machine gun in the sense that it could fire repeatedly, however it had the power of a special missile and as a result it carried less than a machine gun could. Not like those hadn't been tweaked a little, either, though. In any case, Avril had to understand how they worked so she could explain it to Trigger whenever she finally decided to show up. It was exactly what it's name said it was, though. Pretty much just a laser gun. Much better than standard weapons, that was for sure. A couple of well placed hits could virtually cook the target whole.

Footsteps brought Avril away from her thoughts and her admiring of her handy work. She turned around, expecting Trigger and her squadron, but was instead greeted by Tabloid. He looked much cleaner now that he was out of the penal unit, and she had to get used to his new look. And his name. Everyone continued to call him Tabloid, even though his name was literally right on his flight suit. She wondered if he'd be bothered by her using his first name. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to call him Peter, though. It was a nice name, but she couldn't see him with it. Then again, Naomi and William weren't much better for Trigger and Count. And she'd keep calling _them_ by their TAC names.

She figured she'd give it a shot, giving him a small smile in greeting as he approached her. "Well, good morning_ Lieutenant Hartmann_," Avril said, stressing his rank and name so it almost sounded as if she was teasing him. It honestly sounded really weird to call him that. At least no one stopped using her name in addition to using Scrap Queen. She'd hate having to adjust to someone calling her Avril again.

It didn't seem like Tabloid was too bothered by hearing his real name. In fact he chuckled, almost awkwardly looking away and scratching the back of his head. He looked back up at her, finally looking well-rested instead of tired from being overworked. She noticed a cup of coffee in his hand, too. "Well, that's _definitely_ going to take some getting used to," he said, never losing his smile. "Especially from you. Everyone except you, Count, and Trigger are calling me Peter and Hartmann now. It's crazy."

"Well, if it makes you feel better then I can stick to Tabloid," Avril said, hoping to give him some reassurance. They were all adjusting fairly well, but obviously some things would take some time. She may be seen as really cold and the opposite of a personal type of woman, but she could still worry about her friends. At least they were all together, so it would be easier to adjust. Even Avril was having a bit of a difficult time fitting in with the new mechanics. She felt like she knew her way around a plane better than they did, and she was more unorthodox in her methods than they were. They had even protested some of the adjustments she made to the squadrons' planes, claiming that it wouldn't work. She sighed. They would probably all stick to a strict military protocol, but when you're not official military then you have to change the way you think in order for your pilots to survive. "Can't say the others will do the same, though…"

"Eh, that doesn't bother me," Tabloid said with a shrug. "They've been switching between the three, actually. Same for Count and Trigger. Let me tell you, I had fun messing with Count last night. Whenever he'd least expect it, I'd just call him William to get on his nerves. I don't think he's a fan of his first name, honestly." Avril and Tabloid both laughed at this. Avril was pretty sure there was a king named William, so the fact that Count had the name was a little amusing. He was probably well aware of this, too.

There was a short silence that fell over them after this. Avril didn't take long to come up with a subject, though. She knew that he was on standby and probably wasn't going to be flying any time soon. He was stuck on the ground with the LRSSG's younger, inexperienced pilot named Tailor. He probably was not happy about this. Avril knew how bummed she was about being physically unable to fly, but Tabloid was capable and yet not allowed to. Avril considered herself a pilot as much as she did a mechanic, although she knew that the title was probably irrelevant now. She still understood wanting to fly and yet being stuck on the ground to watch everyone else do it. "Any idea when you'll be able to fly, too?" she asked him, changing the subject. "I know you probably feel a little left out."

"Well, I saw Wiseman earlier and we talked for a bit," Tabloid said. "He says that Trigger's dad is going to act as a bit of an instructor. We'll be training while Cyclops and Strider Squadron sortie. I guess he doesn't think I have the same training as Count and Trigger. I mean, technically I don't. Count flew an F-15 before he got sent to Zapland, and Trigger's flown three different planes and excelled at them, so I can understand them getting picked over me. I flew an F-16 before I got locked up and then I was stuck with that old Mirage. Doesn't exactly scream 'skilled pilot', I guess."

Avril scowled. It was a little unfair. She knew that Tabloid was just as able as the others were. Not to mention that he was the first one to stay behind and help Trigger with that Mr. X pilot over Yinshi Valley. Eventually Count managed to remove his head from his ass long enough to go back and help chase them off. But by then all the work was done. Avril quickly changed her expression, noticing that Tabloid looked mildly concerned. All three of them were her friends, although they all got on her nerves from time to time. Count was learning, and for all of his faults he _was_ a good pilot. Before Trigger came along, he honestly was the best pilot out of the other Spares. Besides, Tabloid had a good point.

She took a quick breath and looked around the hangar, sensing the moment becoming awkward. "Well, I'm sure that they'll put you to work soon enough. I doubt they'd go through all the trouble of getting us assigned here just to give us nothing to do, right?" Tabloid nodded in agreement, and Avril, unsure what else to do, smiled and said in a bright tone that startled both of them, "Perfect! Everything will work out fine." Tabloid noticed the uncharacteristic cheeriness and she mentally smacked herself. She honestly didn't know why she was acting this way. It had to have been the lack of sleep. Sure, four hours wasn't _bad_, but she was used to more. She was about ready to kill Trigger for that. Movement at the entrance to the hangar caught her eye. _Speak of the devil..._

Tabloid, following Avril's gaze, turned around as Trigger and Count made their way inside the hangar. Count was actually having to walk at a faster pace to keep up with Trigger, who was taking surprisingly long strides compared to him. _Well someone's ready to get going today_, Avril thought, smirking. She kept her hands on her hips and nodded to the two of them, actually relieved to have someone besides Tabloid to talk to. It seemed that Tabloid, without realizing it, shared her sentiment. Once the two reached them, Avril said, "We were just talking about you two. Well…sort of."

"Oh?" Count raised an eyebrow. He eyed Tabloid with an almost playful glint in his eyes, fighting off a grin. "Hopefully nothing bad."

"Nothing _too_ bad, at least," Tabloid replied cheekily. "I was just telling Avril here about how badly you snore in your sleep."

The girls blinked in surprise and chuckled while looking at Count, who immediately got defensive. "He's lying," he said quickly. Trigger crossed her arms and gave him an 'oh really' look, which he wasn't too happy about. "I do _not_ snore!" he insisted, glaring at Tabloid. "You see, this is _exactly_ why I didn't want to share a room with you. Because now you have the ability to make up ridiculous things about me and everyone just has to believe you."

"Isn't that why you're here in the first place?" Trigger asked him, furrowing her brow. They all looked at her and she shrugged it off. "Well, he made up a lot of ridiculous stories in Spare and most everyone believed him for a while, so he probably said something that was just a little too ridiculous one day before he was arrested, they figured it out, and he got locked up." Count's mouth hung open. Tabloid and Avril already knew what Count had done to get locked up, since he practically bragged about it 24/7. But for some reason, he only ever boasted about his kill count and flying and 'leadership' after Trigger got tossed in with them. Surprisingly, Trigger was almost spot on with her guess and she seemed to figure this out after looking at their expressions. She gave a sweet smile to Count. "I take it I'm not wrong. Well, anyways. Avril, what's new with our planes?"

She walked off, away and towards the fighters, Count still standing there with a look of surprise and annoyance on his features. Tabloid chuckled and gave him a pat on his back before following after Trigger. Avril shook her head, amused herself by the incident. She glanced back at the other two to make sure they couldn't hear before she said to Count, "I, uh…think she's got you figured out, Sir Count." And with that she turned around and limped after the others.

Count recovered with a quick shake of his head, scowling as he followed after Avril. "Yeah, _she's_ figured me out," he said to Avril as he fell in step beside her, since it wasn't hard for him to catch up. "But it'd be nice if I could figure _her_ out for a change. Sometimes she's just weird, and the only thing I know for a fact is that she's crazy."

"Well, if you want to figure her out then you've already started," Avril replied quietly. "She's a crazy, reckless, dumbass. Go from there." Trigger, although she was saying something to Tabloid, eyed the two of them with a barely noticeable smirk and a mischievous shine in her eyes. Although she was too far away to hear Avril and Count muttering to one another, the mechanic still could have sworn that Trigger had heard what they said. At the very least she had an idea of what they were saying. Avril chuckled and said to Count, "Yeah, even I don't understand her. You're gonna have your work cut out for you."

He said something under his breath in agreement, but Avril didn't hear him. And she wasn't about to ask, either, considering they were right beside Trigger now and she definitely could hear whatever they were saying. Trigger, thankfully, saved her from having to worry about the strange topic continuing by offering her own question, "Soooo…what are these things? I've never seen anything like them before."

"Pulse lasers," Avril replied. All three of them gave her a confused look, so she explained everything that she knew about them, from their capabilities, their history, even the range at which they were most effective (ultimately, Trigger would be in range to use the pulse lasers a good while before she could use the gun). After that, once she was sure that Trigger understood her brand new special weapon, Avril went over the changes she'd made to all eight of the planes. She didn't go into detail, arguing that the Scrap Queen kept professional secrets, but she did tell them that the enemy wouldn't know what hit them.

Count and Trigger eagerly thanked Avril, and she noticed the somewhat disappointed look on Tabloid's face. He hid it well, though, stating that he was happy that the LRSSG was going to be out there, getting the job done without any trouble. By then, Wiseman and the rest of the LRSSG pilots had made their way into the hangar. Avril, still being wary around Wiseman, gave him a curt nod in greeting. Count and Trigger, however, marched right up to him. Count was in a surprisingly good mood, too. And here Avril was thinking that she had at least one person in her 'I'm Not Worshipping The Ground Wiseman Walks On Club'. That was too long, though. She needed a better name. _Wait, what the hell am I going on about?! God, I'm taking a nap after they leave..._

"You two ready for your first mission?" Wiseman asked Trigger and Count as Strider Squadron filed out to their respective planes. Avril watched them go to their planes without giving Trigger a second look. Actually, they only gave her one look and it was a very suspicious look. One that Avril actually recognized as the same one she frequently gave Wiseman. Maybe she shouldn't be so quick to get upset for it, though. After all, it was only natural for them to not trust Trigger and Count. Or any of them. At least not immediately.

Both of them nodded in answer to Wiseman's question, but Trigger gave a nervous laugh and added, "I, er…heh. I'm a little nervous, though. Being in command of an actual squadron." Count huffed in annoyance at this and Avril saw him roll his eyes and scowl. _Someone_ wasn't happy about Trigger's promotion.

"Relax. You'll do fine," Wiseman said with a reassuring smile. He turned to Count. "About time we go and get ready. What do ya say, partner?"

"Yeah, whatever," Count replied, clearly irritated. He looked back at Tabloid and Avril, and then looked to Trigger. "I'll see you guys later. And, umm, try not to be too jealous if I get the top score." Trigger shook her head and smirked at him as he turned and followed Wiseman and the rest of Cyclops Squadron back outside, where the sun was only just starting to come up, which made it hard to see them once they disappeared from the light of the hangar.

Trigger watched them go before taking a deep breath and turning back to Avril, making her way over to her plane. "Well, thanks for the upgrades, Avril. I'm sure we'll need them out there," she said, biting her lip nervously.

"Oh, stop worrying so much, you dumbass," Avril nearly snapped at her. _Aha! You see, that's much better. Maybe you just need a cup of coffee. Very,_ very black_ coffee_. "You'll be out there, showing all those guys how it's done just like back in Spare. Just don't wreck the plane, alright? I spent the last two hours working on this thing, so if you mess any of it up, I swear to God that I will kill you. As slowly as I possibly can." It was an empty threat, both of them knew that, but Avril still would be upset if Trigger messed up the plane. Especially after all the work they both (but especially Avril) had put into it. And, she would be a little upset if Trigger got shot down. Avril kind of cared about her, as stupid as she could be sometimes. She cleared her throat and tossed her wrench onto a tray she had nearby. "Well, you better get going. Have fun."

She was aware of Trigger watching her leave with a stupid looking grin on her face. Avril didn't care. Right now she was going to get that coffee that she desperately needed before she ended up giving someone a hug or something. Now _that_ wasn't a pleasant thought. She glanced over her shoulder briefly just as everyone had climbed into their respective planes, but then turned her attention back on the path that she was taking. It wasn't like she had a bad feeling about the mission, but Avril didn't trust the LRSSG as far as she could throw them right now. Wiseman was a little…too interested in all of them for her taste. As if he was just looking for a pet project.

Although they were all treated much better, Wiseman and the others still seemed to think that they were — in some way — superior to Tabloid, Count, and Trigger. Avril, not so much, since she wasn't flying with them. Maybe they hadn't noticed it, but there was definitely some tension. Avril had a hunch that the first mission was not going to be easy for Count and Trigger. Their new wingmen would probably make it as difficult as they could, on purpose, just to see if they were really worth investing time in.

* * *

**Snider's Top, Northern Usea.**  
**0900hrs.**

"Trigger, you're callsign is Strider 1. You'll be in charge of Strider Squadron. Count, you'll be Cyclops 2. You'll be under Cyclops 1." The sound of Long Caster reminding Naomi and Count of their new callsigns was nearly drowned out by the sound of blood roaring in Naomi's ears. Flying in a real formation again was exhilarating, and she swore that she could feel the rumbling from all eight of the fighters as they made their way into the operation area. Naomi and Wiseman were leading the way, their wingmen forming a line on their wing. Naomi, off to her left, had Skald, Jaeger, and then Lanza. Wiseman, on his right wing, had Count, Fencer, and then Húxiān. They were flying in what almost looked like a V formation, except that having both Wiseman and Naomi at the front turned it into more of a U in Naomi's opinion.

Naomi was a little nervous about flying with them. She was concerned that Skald and Lanza might give her a hard time. In just a few hours, she'd become painfully aware that she was younger and less experienced than they were. But as far as she could tell, she and Jaeger were the aces in the squadron. Skald and Lanza were out on their first real mission with the LRSSG as well. Maybe there wasn't anything to worry about. Of course, she and Wiseman were carrying a mostly experimental weapon and what if it just decided to stop working in the middle of combat? They'd be screwed. But there was the return line…they could just cross it and get a new special weapon, right?

Her worries were outweighing the previous exhilaration that she felt, but thankfully Long Caster interrupted her thoughts with a faint chewing sound followed by a quick apology once he had swallowed. "Sorry, you guys, but I'm gonna eat while I work. My judgement goes fuzzy when I get too hungry."

Although the others were unfazed by his comment, Count and Naomi were taken by surprise. He was…eating while working? Count was the only one to voice his surprise, "How can you talk about food? We're about to go take on an enemy fleet and you're eating a sandwich while you work?" Naomi felt a little jealous. Now she wished she'd had more than just a bagel to eat for breakfast, but she knew that they'd be back to base in time for lunch so it didn't really matter.

Long Caster didn't answer Count, instead he said, "Be sure to head back to the return line if you need repairs or fuel. Aircrafts need to eat too in order to be effective." There was a crunching sound that followed his sentence and it sounded as if he was eating a sandwich or something. They didn't have a whole lot of time to worry about that, though, since they were already approaching the enemy fleet. It was in visual range at this point, just sitting there waiting for them. In all honesty, they could have just gone right past them and gone and beat up the enemy platform immediately, but it was on the way and also in their way. Wiseman didn't break formation, though, so Naomi stayed where she was until Long Caster radioed them, "Alright, guys. We have a visual confirmation of the enemy fleet. You're all cleared to engage."

"Wilco. Let's go," Count said eagerly, clearly itching for a real fight.

"Hold up, Count," Wiseman said, holding his position. "I'm gonna let Strider 1 lead the charge and Cyclops will follow. Trigger? You ready?"

She was surprised to hear him offer her the opportunity. Being her first day leading Strider, after all, but he seemed willing to trust her. "Uh…yes sir! Roger that," she said, craning her neck to check on her wingmen behind her. Looking straight ahead again, she took a deep breath. "Strider Squadron, you heard the man. Engage." The four planes went ahead of Cyclops Squadron and then broke off from the main formation, changing direction to target the enemy fleet.

In spite of their compliance with her order, Skald quickly voiced his doubts before they started the attack. "So we're supposed to follow you just like that? I heard you were spectacular, Captain. At least with your last squadron."

"Yeah," Lanza agreed with his friend. "I don't want you slowing us down out there."

"Ease up on her, you two. Today's our rookies' moment of truth. Give her a chance." Naomi was grateful that Jaeger had come to her defense. It was understandable that they'd be having some doubts. Of course, Jaeger sticking up for her confirmed her suspicions about Wiseman's reasoning behind keeping Jaeger with Naomi. Not that she was complaining.

Figuring that this was the best way to prove that she could take charge, Naomi took a good look at the targets on her HUD to decide the best approach. Strider Squadron was making the first run, and then Cyclops was joining the fight, so the first hits they made needed to be worthwhile. There were several ships lined up, literally any of them making for a good target, but the largest one was the one that Naomi was concerned about. The Erusean's aircraft carrier, right in the middle of the fleet, just waiting to be sunk. At this point, the enemy realized that they were being attacked, and she could already figure out that the carrier would be launching its aircraft as soon as it could. She had to act fast, quickly doing the math in her head. They'd be able to sink it in one go if they all cooperated.

"Okay, Strider Squadron. Listen up," she said to them, and once she was sure she had their undivided attention, she gave them her plan. "I want you three to line up behind me single file. We're going to dive and hit their carrier head on one at a time. Fire everything you can and pull up. If all goes well, it'll be me or Lanza that finishes it off. Everyone got it?" There was a pause before Jaeger confirmed that he understood, then Lanza, and then Skald. They did as they were told and the four planes dropped their altitude and made a low, fast approach. Naomi fired two missiles as soon as she got a lock on the carrier, then pulled up sharply. Skald did the same after her, then Jaeger, and then Lanza. Naomi pulled up and back around, diving straight down to deliver the final blow. One more hit from a pair of missiles took care of it, but not before the fighters were launched off of it. They could deal with them later.

"Aircraft carrier _Njörðr_ sunk! Nice going, Strider Squadron," Long Caster praised them, and there were some triumphant cheers from the rest of Strider.

Naomi couldn't help but give a satisfied grin as she looked around for her next target, also keeping an eye on her wingmen. They were still following her. For now, at least. Cyclops Squadron maintained their altitude for a moment before Wiseman gave the order to spread out and attack. The rest of Strider Squadron did the same, with Jaeger going off on his own and Lanza and Skald pairing up to take care of the enemy fighters. Wiseman, in the meantime, took very little time sinking a frigate that was at the edge of the fleet. Naomi, not too fond of flying close to the water, pulled up and circled around. She was at a regular and safe altitude, still able to lock onto the ships below without worrying about crashing into the sea. However, when she fired her missiles at an Aegis vessel, both missiles missed their target. In fact, it looked like they were just blown out of the sky.

"What the hell?" Naomi blurted out, genuinely confused about why two missiles that _should_ have hit ended up just vanishing. "Er…Long Caster, any idea why I didn't hit the target? I had a perfect shot!"

"The enemy Aegis vessel is intercepting incoming missiles with their CIWS," the AWACS promptly replied. "You'll have to counteract CIWS with a low approach or use them out of their intercept range." Unfortunately, Naomi quickly realized that the latter wasn't an option in this case. The LRSSG seemed to love pushing her out of her comfort zone. First fighting wind in Yinshi to provide an escort for them, and now flying close to the water and risking crashing and drowning in the ocean. Okay, so she was a tad dramatic about it. She just didn't like the possibility of being trapped. In anything. In any way.

_Just suck it up_. Naomi bit back a frustrated groan and circled back around. She got a good distance away before she made a dive, pulling up shortly after hearing the automated 'Caution! Pull up!' in her ear. Once her plane was level, she adjusted her altitude just a bit more and once she got a lock she fired two missiles, and came within gun range just before they hit. However, the ship was taken care of by the missiles and Naomi pulled up, clear from the explosion and the risk of dying. It looked as if she'd done the trick, the CIWS unable to stop the missile before it hit.

Long Caster was quick to announce the destruction of two ships, one from Naomi and a missile cruiser that Count had destroyed. "Aegis vessel _Hœnir_ and missile cruiser _Skaði_ have been destroyed. Well done, you two."

"Heh. Thanks," Count said smugly, clearly not bothered by any praise he had received. After a pause and after he presumably took a look around for his next target, he made an observation. "I think we've sunk most of the enemy fleet, but it's hard to tell because of all the smoke."

"Cyclops 2, stay sharp!" Wiseman advised him quickly, likely so he wouldn't drop his guard because of the lack of visual on the targets and get himself shot down. "Half of the enemies are still around and they're going to give you a hard time. Work by the numbers, Count."

Naomi heard him sigh, but he didn't argue with their leader. She didn't have the time to worry about that, deciding to make another low approach and take out the other Aegis vessel in the Erusean's fleet. Getting a bit more confident, she went through with her plan and made a dive before pulling up, flying straight at it before firing right before she would have hit it, pulling up and performing a victory roll as she climbed and the ship blew up from the impact of the missile. It was sunk and once again she was free of having to make a low approach. There were only two ships left, and then they could move on to the platforms in the north and the one in the valley. If they had enough time (and with the way things were going, they would) then they'd be hitting both of them.

"Aegis vessel _Freyr_ is sunk!" Long Caster replied through another mouthful of food. Naomi was kind of getting used to his eating. Honestly, she envied the AWACS crew, sitting up at high altitude just getting to munch while they work. Must be nice.

Count let out a cheer at the announcement that brought her mind away from food. "Hell yeah! That thing was huge!" For once he actually sounded genuinely excited and happy. Not often that he sounded like that, and Naomi realized how strange it was when it actually happened.

"Don't get cocky, Count," Wiseman reminded him, although not sounding upset with him. "You're a hunting dog. We need to keep working to soften up the rest of the enemies." Naomi, as she circled around in search of where to attack next, saw Cyclops Squadron briefly regroup on Wiseman and do the same thing as Naomi, and after a while she was also joined by her wingmen. The two squadrons surveyed the area like a bird of prey looking for it's next meal. Wiseman quickly took charge. "There's two ships left. Strider Squadron, you handle the destroyer and Cyclops will get this frigate on the edge here."

With that, the two squadrons split. While Naomi made a dive for the destroyer, Skald — to her surprise — followed her down and Jaeger and Lanza tangled with the fighters and attack helicopters attempting to keep them from their job. Cyclops Squadron did the same, with Wiseman and Count both making a move on the frigate while Fencer and Húxiān worked against the fighters. Naomi wasted no time, making a dive and firing a missile at the destroyer. Skald hit it again and Naomi quickly pulled up and back around to deliver the final blow. On the other side of the now destroyed fleet, Wiseman and Count had finished their own task. Lanza chuckled, "Destroyer sunk. Nice job you two"

"The Njord fleet has been destroyed. Time to take care of the supply bases," Long Caster told them. Everyone let out a chirp of 'wilco', 'roger', or in Count's case 'righto', and the two squadrons all got back in their previous formation, heading full speed to the north to take care of the smaller base first. It would be the quickest to deal with, and from the set up that Naomi saw it would also be the easiest. Actually, if you worked it right then you could take most of it out in one go. Actually, that gave her an idea. A stupid idea, but one that she was going to try nonetheless. As they approached the platform, Long Caster informed them of it without fail. "You're approaching the marine platform. Enemy fighters are taking off. Eliminate them with extreme prejudice before they can threaten the mission."

"Wilco. We'll swat those flies down into the drink," Wiseman said, likely through a sly grin.

Naomi did a quick observation of the marine platform. It was perfectly straight along the area that supported the runway and connected it to the control tower and whatnot where they had set up CIWS and AA guns and SAM sites. A plane could fly right through it and she had this new special weapon that might be useful. She took a quick look around. Wiseman was looking for the best place to attack the platform, scouting around the edge of it and picking off a few SAM sites before they could target the others while everyone else began to destroy the fighters that had already taken off as well as some that were still taxiing on the runway. Naomi carefully flew through the gap head on between two of the supports to see how much room she had to work with, then circled back around to enter on one end, switching to her special weapon. Grinning, she said, "Hey, Count? You remember the second operation I was with Spare, when we attacked that base in Roca Roja?"

It was a few seconds before Count answered. "What? Of course I remember it. What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Remember when I flew into that tunnel to wipe out the enemy fighters and everyone thought I crashed?" Naomi prodded casually as she lowered her speed, carefully adjusting her altitude to make sure that she flew through the platform instead of into it.

"And everyone thought you were crazy, which you were. Why do you ask?" Count answered, suddenly sounding suspicious. He must have seen what she was about to do. "Trigger, you better not be doing what I think you're about to do."

Her grin widened. "If you thought that was crazy, then tell me what you think of this." Everyone must of been too busy or too confused by the conversation, since they didn't say anything. _Alright, pulse lasers. Let's see what you bad boys can do_. Without any interference, Naomi's plane flew between the platform, no difficulties or crashes what so ever. However, she started firing the lasers before she entered, taking out the first support core, then the second, and third, all the way down the line at full speed before flying out the other end, the platform collapsing section by section behind her. She pulled up and around, whooping triumphantly now that she was clear of the collapse. She watched as it fell into the ocean, crushing the tankers that had been floating beneath it in a splash of white from the water and a brief explosion from the ship.

Everyone around her began to chatter over one another, sounding either shocked, confused, or excited. "What just happened?" Long Caster demanded. "Is everyone okay?" It seemed that his concern had been because of the chatter, unable to pick out what the pilots were saying and concerned that someone had been taken out.

Wiseman was quick to put their AWACS controller at ease. "Everyone's fine. Strider 1 just flew right between the platform. She destroyed the structural supports as she went. That's remarkable skill…" The last part was muttered, and it was clear that she'd made a good impression on Wiseman with that stunt. However risky it was, it took care of most of the platform. There were only a few parts left standing, but nothing that the squadrons couldn't take care of.

"Holy hell! Was that for real?" Fencer asked with a chuckle after he had gotten a good look at what had happened and the aftermath of the destruction.

"Impressive," Húxiān put in. She seemed like someone that wasn't easily won over, so Naomi actually appreciated her praise.

"I've never seen someone pull such a reckless stunt!" Skald said, sounding both impressed and actually startled by the events that had just unfolded. Jaeger and the others laughed at his reaction. The only person that didn't join in was Count. In fact, he hadn't been cheering at all.

"I've sent the data. Make like Trigger and serve up a sandwich," Long Caster ordered, sounding pleased and even a little proud of what Naomi had done.

"Righto," Count responded, pulling around after downing an Erusean Su-33. The platform's supports were now highlighted on their HUDs, with only three left to take out before the platform was complete. As they all prepared to take on the remainder of the enemy supply base, Count announced to them, "Just a couple more hits and that platform is going down! I call dibs on the final shot!"

"Cyclops 2, stop fluttering about and stay glued to my ass!" Wiseman snapped at him, sounding frustrated by him just zipping off whenever he felt like it. Naomi noticed that, in spite of the squadrons splitting up and engaging in separate attacks on different parts, Skald had remained close by her in case she needed support. Count, however, didn't stay near Wiseman.

In fact, Fencer was actually the one taking Count's place covering Wiseman's wing. And Cyclops 3 pointed this out to him as Count reluctantly flew alongside the two of them, allowing Fencer to break off and provide Húxiān with some support. "Around here, we don't make other people do our job for us. It might have been every man for himself where you came from, but it's not like that here."

Count groaned in frustration. "Stop treating me like a newborn chick!" he snapped at both Wiseman and Fencer, but Naomi suspected that it was mostly targeted at Fencer. "I've shot down my fair share on enemies, you know."

"Chirp, chirp, chirp little chick," Wiseman teased him with a soft chuckle. "Just stick with your mother hen and you'll get back to the roost safe n' sound."

Count sighed at this, but he didn't say anything else as he and Wiseman both targeted the structural support to the section of the platform that housed the enemy control tower. Wiseman seemed to enjoy making good use of his own pulse lasers, going all out with those things. Jaeger and Lanza allowed Naomi and Skald to take their place with the enemy fighters to get in on the platform action, the same going for Fencer and Húxiān. The two platforms were side by side. Jaeger and Fencer attacked first, managing to get one missile each past the enemy CIWS on their respective targets. Húxiān and Lanza took a bit of a risk, flying through the remaining part of the platforms on separate ends, firing a missile while they were between the gap and taking out the remainder of the platform, pulling clear of the explosions.

"Nice work!" Húxiān cheered as she momentarily flew beside Lanza, both observing the destruction that they'd caused. The two broke away from one another to assist their own squadrons in eliminating the remaining fighters and a few small ships in dry dock

"Platform purge confirmed!" Long Caster called out. "You just put the meat in between those buns and that burger's well done!"

"Weren't we serving a sandwich?" Count asked, his voice a bit higher than usual when he asked the question. It was clear that he was confused by Long Caster's sudden mention of a burger. Naomi wasn't confused, so much as she was getting hungry.

"I'm happy to eat both," Long Caster replied simply, almost sheepishly, in fact.

"Whatever you say, man…" Count said with a sigh. "You people are weird."

"I mean, I don't mind the talk about food over the threats for solitary. But now I'm hungry," Naomi said as Strider Squadron formed up behind her and Cyclops behind Wiseman. They were back in their original formation as they adjusted their course to get to the valley platform. Her wingmen all laughed at the comment, and she was glad that they found it amusing even though she wasn't really joking. Part of it was true. No threat for solitary was nice, and she was very hungry now.

"Well, if all goes well then maybe we can have a nice victory dinner," Wiseman said through a smile. "Long Caster, do me a favor and pick out which restaurants around the base we said we liked the best. I'll let you pick it out."

"I'd be hurt if you didn't. Roger that, Major," Long Caster said, chuckling. There was a pause before he told them, "Continue on to the valley platform like we planned."

Near the entrance to the valley that contained the platform, the mountains around them and the water along the edge was covered with snow and ice in spite of it being the middle of August. Naomi never realized nor did she ever really stop to care about just how cold northern Erusea was. In Osea they had all four seasons year round in the order they were supposed to happen in, except in the Bana region where it was beach weather year-round. Even in places near North Osea it was actually hot in the summer. Naomi had a good feeling that it wouldn't be long before cold weather made its way to New Arrows, and they'd be in for something better than temperatures in the mid eighties.

Skald's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "Trigger, I've been meaning to ask you something since we took off. What are the marks on your plane?" At first, he paused, and Naomi was going to explain the wing and the tail, but Skald then added, "I know what the wing means, but what about those three lines? They look like scratches."

"Just a little something I thought up," Naomi replied with a shrug. "Avril helped me with them last night. What do you think?"

Before anyone could answer, Count offered his own opinion. "I don't like 'em," Count said quickly. "They're too much like sin lines. I'm glad mine are gone."

"What are those?" Húxiān asked curiously. It was then that Naomi remembered that only Wiseman was aware of the sin line situation. Bandog hadn't explained it to the rest of the LRSSG pilots that had stayed at Zapland, only to Wiseman. There hadn't been any reason to explain it, and nobody asked about it.

"Nothing," Count said with a sigh. "It's in the past."

They didn't have time to linger on the subject any longer as they closed in on the resupply base. It was more spread out than the first one was, with eight separate platforms that Naomi knew she couldn't take out in one go. It had heavier anti-air defense and helicopters buzzing around to protect it. Fighters that had managed to slip through the first two attacks were also flying around, ready to protect the last remaining base. They all remained in formation as Long Caster radioed them. "We're near the valley platform. Give it the same beating you gave the other one."

"We're supposed to smash up that whole thing?" Count asked with a scoff. "At least the first one made it easy for us."

"Hmm…you're right, Count. That'd be a bit of a tall order," Long Caster said thoughtfully. "For this one, just destroy the boats, aircraft, and AA weaponry."

Naomi was a little disappointed. It wasn't as satisfying to just destroy those targets. Besides, Erusea could still make use of it if it was standing. That almost defeated the purpose of the mission. Wiseman must have thought of this too, since he immediately gave his own order. "Nah, let's do what the chick said."

"Whoah!" Lanza chuckled. "Roger that!"

"Here's how we're gonna do this one," Wiseman said, taking charge of both squadrons. Naomi didn't mind. She wasn't really sure what the best course of action would be for this one anyways, since the anti-air was harder to get through with this platform. "Cyclops 3 and Strider 3 will pair up and take care of the enemy fighters. Cyclops and Strider 4 will deal with the boats. Count, you're with me, and Skald you stick with Trigger. We'll attack each side of the base at the same time. It's tricky, but we can fit through the gaps even if they're tighter than the first one was."

"There's no way in hell this craft can do that," Count said incredulously. "That order is just insane!"

"You've followed orders crazier than that, Count," Naomi reminded him with a sigh. "Come on. If we work together than we can get this over and done with faster. Just trust him."

"Whatever…" Count muttered.

Jaeger and Fencer broke off to engage the enemy fighters, with Jaeger (being the older and more experienced of the two) leading the way. "Strider 3, engaging!"

"Cyclops 3, engaging!" Fencer added and both of them met the enemy F-14s head on.

"Cyclops 4, engaging!" Húxiān shouted as she and Lanza broke off and made for the ships in dry dock.

Naomi and Skald split off and took the right half of the marine base, with Wiseman and Count taking the other half just like Wiseman said they would. Switching her weapon to the PLSL and the target on her HUD to the core, the four planes carefully flew between the thinner gap and fired at their targets, with Skald and Count having to use regular missiles. Four of the eight platforms crumbled and fell down to the ocean, one of them taking out yet another tanker. Erusea really should have had better foresight than this and known when to set off. In fact, only one ship actually was managing to escape. Lanza was quick to point it out so that he and Húxiān could take it out. "A ship's trying to escape from the lower part of the platform. It actually managed to survive."

"Yeah, but it looks like we caught 'em by surprise," Húxiān said confidently. "Lanza, you get the last frigate on your end. I'll take care of the tanker and start with the remaining ships."

"Roger wilco," Lanza chirped as Húxiān flew past the platform and quickly destroyed the tanker. Once Lanza was finished with the frigate, he joined Húxiān to handle the rest of the destroyers and frigates in dry dock.

"Half of the platform is destroyed," Long Caster informed them. "Just a few more hits. Stay cool and keep piling on the heat!"

"We're almost done. Time to stick a fork in it!" Jaeger called out as he downed an F-2 with a perfect, well placed shot. Naomi quickly pulled around for another attack, Skald following her. They took out two of the platforms together, and Wiseman handled one more. Count rolled to evade a missile and then recovered to finish off the last platform.

"I'm the chef this time!" Count quickly announced, making it absolutely clear that the final shot was his this time. With two missiles released, he banked to the left to join Wiseman and the platform he targeted went down. By now, any fighters were starting to withdraw and Jaeger and Fencer let up on their attacks, understanding that the enemy wasn't about to put up a fight now and was giving in. That secured Osea and the LRSSG with a victory.

"Nice work! That takes care of both of the platforms!" Long Caster said as the two squadrons once again regrouped and returned to their original positions, heading to the return line and back the way they came. "The operation is complete. I doubt the enemy will recover from this one. And the new recruits certainly pulled their weight. You did great out there. Wiseman, I think tonight's the night we finally open that bottle. And, to celebrate the mission going well and the fact that we've taken zero losses, I've taken the liberty of ordering a big dinner from the Italian bistro near the base, so the wine will go well with it. You all earned it."

"What's Italian?" Naomi asked, furrowing her brow. It sounded familiar, but she didn't know where she'd heard it from.

"Oh, it's from a small Anean country called Italia. You may not know this, but all the good pizza comes from that place," Long Caster happily answered her question. "Trust me, the food from this restaurant is absolute heaven. You'll love it."

"Well, today was a good day. Learned a lot, too," Lanza said with a relaxed sigh. "I think I finally understand the new boss's style."

"Our other newcomer is a…_unique_ character," Fencer added about Count with a stifled laugh, and the others sounded as if they had to do the same.

Count let out a frustrated sigh. "The old squad was bad, and I guess it's gonna be no different here," he said. "You know, I could really perform if I only had some partners I could trust."

Naomi found herself a little offended that he hadn't considered her, but to be fair he might have just been referring to those he was flying with in Cyclops Squadron. They were working together, but he was under someone else. And she had a feeling that Count was going to have a harder time adjusting after being semi-in charge and allowed to do his own thing without a real leader to hold him back and offer some organization. Naomi wondered if only Count was having a hard time fitting in, or if Avril, Tabloid, and even Bandog were also finding the change difficult and frustrating.

Wiseman didn't seem bothered by Count's comment at all. "No need to worry! I got your back," he said in a cheerful, even playful way. "Just relax and do your thing!"

"Gimme a break!" Count exclaimed exasperatedly, perhaps even a little embarrassed.

Naomi laughed with Wiseman, but the others were quietly sniggering to themselves. Wiseman was honestly acting like Naomi's dad used to when she and her brother and sister were a lot younger. It was refreshing to have a commander like him, and she honestly hoped that Count could fit in, in spite of all the joking that he seemed less than fond of. This was a good squadron, and a welcomed change to Spare Squadron. After destroying those platforms, she was honestly ready to just relax for a few days and spend some time with their new squadron.

* * *

**New Arrows Air Base, East of Usea.**  
**1800hrs.**

After the debriefing was finished, everyone sat outside of the hangars at some folding tables and chairs that Long Caster pulled out so that they could enjoy dinner outside. He had driven to the main gate to pick up their food and returned after everything was set up, carrying a bottle of expensive wine in one hand and an extremely large plastic bag in the other. Long Caster set the bag on the center of the table and all of the pilots greedily swarmed around it with paper plates and disposable cups to get what they wanted. Although Naomi wasn't much of a wine person, and neither was Count, she and him decided to try a small amount anyways. Naomi honestly preferred beer, but Long Caster insisted that the Italian food was best with the wine and she didn't really want to disappoint her new AWACS.

After a while, Avril, Tabloid, and Bandog had heard of their return and their own little pizza party and Wiseman welcomed them into the group. Naomi's father had already been there, having taken a group picture of their squadrons after they'd landed to commemorate the moment. Wiseman was currently showing it to Naomi, holding his smartphone's screen so that she could see the surprisingly high quality photo that had been taken. He was very proud of them and how it turned out. "I'm gonna upload it to my computer tonight and order a couple of copies of it plus some frames," he was telling her.

Naomi looked up at him, surprised, and observed the photo again.

Wiseman was in the center, with a mile wide grin and one arm slung over Naomi's shoulder. Next to her free arm, all of Strider Squadron was positioned, each in their own pose. Lanza was glaring at Skald as Skald (much taller than the rest of them) attempted to keep him out of view of the camera and the two were engaged in what looked like the start of a fist fight. Jaeger was laughing as he stood between the two of them, keeping them apart like a father with his two sons. Wiseman's other arm was wrapped around Count's neck in a side hug like with Naomi. Count, in the picture, looked really pissed off by the fact that it was being taken at all. Even more by the fact that Wiseman was _hugging_ him. Beside Count was Húxiān and Fencer, the former moving to punch Fencer's shoulder because of him having attempted to photobomb her with the ever classic bunny ears and she was having none of it.

"You take photos after all of your missions?" Naomi asked as she took a sip of her wine, no longer taken off guard by the fruity taste that it had followed by the somewhat sour aftertaste. She wasn't used to it, but it didn't taste bad. In fact, she could even enjoy it.

"Not every mission, just the ones with the most positive impact on our squadron. Especially when it's a hatchling's first day," Wiseman answered with a smile, cutting off his phone and shoving it into his pocket. "I like to document things like this. It's a little weird for a guy like me, I'm sure, but it comes from my parents. Every time there was a big event, they'd take a family picture. And once they passed away I looked through the photos and remembered good things that I'd have otherwise forgot. Around here, my squadron is like my family. Both Cyclops _and_ Strider. We've all come a long way together, which is probably why they've been giving you and Count a bit of a hard time. You two did a good job, but it takes a while for them to accept someone new into their family."

"I guess I can understand that. So, you trained all of them?" Naomi asked, glancing towards the table. She and Wiseman were standing just outside the hangar entrance since Wiseman had gone inside to inform the mechanics that they were welcome to some pizza as well as to retrieve his phone. Naomi had gone to see what was taking so long and he offered to show her the photo. The others were all laughing and talking in extremely loud voices, so it carried over to them. Not that it was too far away.

Wiseman nodded. "All of them. Well, except Jaeger. He was transferred here, already trained. In fact, he taught me a thing or two when he was under my command." He took a sip of his own drink, having switched to water after his first cup of wine. The major nodded to the table. "That's why I assigned him to your squadron. He taught me how to lead, and he taught me what it was like to listen to my squadron and figure out what they're best at. You did good today, but you need to know their strengths. Jaeger is better at air-to-air, and Lanza's pretty good at surface attacks. He likes flying low. Skald's pretty well-rounded and he's always got your back. Remember that, too. Your number two is the one you need to rely on the most in a battle. They're your buddy. Your best friend. Just ask your dad."

She narrowed her eyes, picking out Skald from the group before she flicked to Count. He was finally starting to loosen up, even just a bit. The wine probably relaxed him a little. Naomi glanced at Wiseman, and then looked towards the sunset in the distance. "If that's the case then why did you fly with Count as your number two? Don't get me wrong, he's a good friend and a…well, he's a pretty good pilot, but he's not someone who likes following orders in the air. He's not a team player."

"That's _exactly_ why I chose him to fly on my wing," Wiseman replied. Naomi blinked in surprise and looked at him, raising one eyebrow. He explained, "Most flight leads would take one look at the way Count acts, deem him a problem child, and throw him to the bottom of the pecking order and make him work his way up. But I trusted Count today in hopes that he'd do the same. And with some prodding he managed to figure it out. Now, I'm not expecting him to turn his act around after one operation. The choice has to be his. He has to want to fit in and he has to want to be a part of our little family. He'll realize that he has to trust other people."

He looked at Naomi and then gave a soft smile. "Count doesn't realize it yet, but he relies a lot more on you and the rest of your friends from Spare Squadron than he probably cares to admit. That's why I requested them to be assigned to us. You've made your own little family and you can help one another with the change. All of my pilots came to me with someone from their previous unit except for Jaeger. Skald and Lanza were from the same squadron. Fencer and Húxiān were from the same base. And every single one of them was just like Count. Nobody wanted to invest the time to help them and overlooked their skill because of their attitude."

"So how'd they realize that they fit in here?" Naomi asked him.

"It took a while, but Jaeger and Long Caster helped them out. It wasn't long before they realized that they were just…what's the best way to put this? Hmmm…opposite sides of the same coin, if that makes any sense." Wiseman said and Naomi nodded quickly. It did make sense. Wiseman expanded on it anyways. "Once they realized that, whether they liked it or not, they were in the same boat and had common ground considering their situation, they managed to work together and now they'd probably go through hell and back for one another." He paused. "That's another reason I asked you to lead Strider. You're a good pilot, but I was also hoping that it would give you a chance that you didn't have…and that maybe you could help your friends. You, Count, Tabloid, Avril, and even Bandog all came from a situation that we can understand but not relate to. Without one another, you'd probably crumble."

Naomi didn't answer him. She cared about them, but she knew that they could have all gone their separate ways and forgot about each other in a heartbeat. To say that they'd all crumble without each other was pushing it. "I doubt that," she said with a sigh. "Avril can take care of herself. Bandog hates everyone. Count hates everyone just as much. Tabloid's friendly enough to move on if he was ever transferred. I…" Naomi paused, realizing actually how much she would miss them if anything ever happened. She missed Brownie, but losing people came with war. She wasn't entirely sure she was actually over that, yet. At last she finished, "I'd be fine. I'd be upset, sure, because they're my friends, but I'd make it with my new squadron."

Wiseman smirked. "I'm going to have to disagree with you on that. I've seen how close you all are. Especially for a group of convicts. And I know how much they really do respect and trust you. Maybe not so much with Count or Bandog, but from what Tabloid tells me it seems that you held them together. And I think in a way they probably held you together." Naomi looked at him skeptically, not really sure how to respond. He shrugged and gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "But who am I to say that, right? Now, c'mon, Trigger. Let's go get something to eat before the pizza's gone."

She didn't argue with him, and the two squadron leaders quickly walked over to the table to join the others. When they arrived, it seemed they were back on the subject of teasing Count. "Oh, so Jaeger's gonna teach our hatchling how to fly, eh?" Lanza asked loudly once Wiseman and Naomi reached the table, clearly walking in on the middle of a discussion about the mission. Wiseman grinned and chuckled while the others laughed, walking around the table to sit beside Long Caster.

"Hey, knock that off, would you?" Count snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at them. He glanced at Naomi as she took the empty seat on the edge of the table beside him. While the others recovered from their laughter at Count's expense, he gave Naomi an irritated look. "And just where were you all this time? I could have used some help."

"I was chatting with Wiseman about the mission today," Naomi replied casually. She looked around the table and smirked at him. "And I think you handled it just fine."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, both of them turning their attention to Jaeger as he settled the group down. "Okay, okay, I've got a story for ya. It's about a great war hero…" Jaeger said, and everyone went silent. Except for Count, who muttered something that sounded like 'oh good grief' under his breath. Naomi held back a smile and looked at him for a moment, finding his sour expression actually a bit amusing. Jaeger went on once he was sure everyone was listening. The first line instantly got Naomi's attention, though. "There was once an Erusean ace known as the King of the Skies. Every pilot he faced in training said pretty much the same thing: 'Scary'. Even though he was their ally, they knew the true fear that an animal feels when it is being hunted by a predator."

Naomi was reminded of that Mr. X pilot, and she had a pretty good feeling that's who Jaeger was referring to and shuddered at the thought, feeling her blood boil a little bit. Count, however, was not impressed. "What about people that faced him in an _actual_ dogfight?" he challenged.

"No pilot came back alive," Jaeger replied after a pause for effect, glancing around the table at the others. Tailor was sitting in stunned silence, actually appearing to be in awe.

"Yeah, I'm not sure I buy that," Count answered, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

"That's because it's not entirely true," Wiseman put in. He nodded to Jaeger, crinkling his features. "Go ahead and tell 'em the rest of it, Jaeger."

Jaeger shrugged, finishing off his pizza and wiping his hands and face before he was ready to continue. "The Osean military gathered as much information on him as they could. Enough to find out his real name and that he was later assigned to an experimental squadron after disappearing for some twenty or more years. Not that he needed much of a squadron. Due to the fact that he was the leader the squadron, he gained the nickname…Mr. X." Of course Naomi's suspicions were true. "And only one pilot that we know of engaged him and survived," Jaeger said with a quick look around the table. Naomi was aware of everyone looking her way, and she felt like she'd been caught in the headlights.

She didn't shrink away from all of the sets of eyes on her, straightening up instead. "If they have him, then why do they bother with the drones? I mean, they have an ace up their sleeve. Literally, in this case."

"From what we've heard, he's supplying their drones with the data they need. That prototype we were chasing down was programmed with his flight data. Although we were hoping to capture it and study it closer, it's probably a good thing you shot it down," Wiseman said through his own mouthful of pepperoni pizza. He swallowed. "No idea what else they're planning. And they switch between sending out an actual squadron to intercept them or just try it with the drones."

"So keep your eyes peeled, Trigger," Jaeger said darkly with a slow nod. "You never know when that experimental squadron might show up." Naomi looked at Count, who rolled his eyes and looked between her and Tabloid with a 'yeah right' look on his face. Of course, to be fair, it did sound like Jaeger was telling them some campfire horror story instead of actual story. He was a good storyteller, though. He knew where to pause in the story, and when to use a more subdued tone. It might have been effective…if they were all five years old. And it was very clear that they weren't.

Wiseman nearly choked on his water at the closing line that Jaeger chose to use. "Pfft! Jaeger, she knows that better than anyone," he said. "She's one of the few with the skills to face Mr. X and live to tell." The older men chuckled at this, but it seemed to bother Count.

"That ain't funny," he said, but there was some uncertainty in his eyes.

Everyone around them shrugged it off, not seeming to care much about the somewhat depressing story. The night continued, with Jaeger finishing telling the others about the battle that day before they moved on to discuss various other things. Fencer was trying to see if anyone would be able to guess what their next operation might be, but they didn't get very far with that. Although Naomi and even Count let loose and had a good time, Naomi was thinking about what Wiseman had said to her and remembering her responsibility. It also explained why Lanza and Skald had been so doubtful of her capabilities. But they all seemed fine now, and Naomi was positive that she and the others from Spare would be the best of friends with the LRSSG pilots in no time at all.


	24. Two Birds, One Stone

Chapter Twenty-Three: Two Birds, One Stone

|…|…|…|

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
_**August 13th, 2019.**_  
**1640hrs.**

|…|…|…|

The receiver on the old fashioned phone clicked as Mihaly set it back down, ending the call with the Erusean agent he was speaking with. After some subtle prodding around the EASA base, he'd managed to learn the name of an active Erusean agent that was currently working to undermine Osea's next operations. But Mihaly didn't care about what the agent was doing. What he did care about was Osea's most recent attack, and the fact that a pilot with three scratches on his tail _and_ a red wing had shown up leading one of the flights that conducted the operation to destroy Erusea's resupply base in Snider's Top. However, it was an F-15 and not an F-2 that had been there, and the red wing confirmed some connection to the infamous Solo Wing Pixy.

From the photographs that he'd seen that someone managed to snap while retreating the marine base, it looked like this pilot had not only stylized his three strikes, but also gave the red wing a new look. It didn't reach the body of the aircraft, fading to gray halfway up the wing. The flying style was the same as the pilot from Yinshi, aggressive and fast, leaving his target little time to recover from the first blow before moving in for the second. Apparently this pilot also chose to fly _through_ their northernmost platform, destroying it with some new laser weaponry. Mihaly found himself a little jealous of the fancy weapon, actually. It did a hell of a lot of damage in just a few hits.

The general let his mind wander for just a moment, wondering if Dr. Schroeder knew if Gründer Industries was working on any new weapons. It would work much better than the standard special weaponry that Mihaly was stuck using. Being part of the experimental squadron usually meant that they'd get several new toys to try out, be it aircraft or some ridiculously designed weapon. However, that was when there wasn't a war going on. Right now they had the drones as their main project, focusing on improving them with Mihaly's data rather than allowing him to try out anything new. But he was content with that. He got to fly and continue to defend his throne. The King of the Skies accomplished his feats without any aid. Not that it wouldn't be fun to fly with a weapon that had more…kick to it.

Mihaly shook his head, clearing his thoughts so that he could finish scribbling down the name and number of the Erusean double-agent in case he forgot. His codename was Glitnir, and he had told Mihaly that he also had an interest in this pilot. According to him, two of his comrades that were now presumably captured had this pilot under their command, and that they were supposed to continue gathering information about him. Glitnir said that once some things were confirmed and the file they had on this three strikes was updated, he'd send a copy to Mihaly so that he could look it over and learn just who his enemy was. It was only fair. The Osean military almost definitely had intel on him that — with the proper clearance, of course — Three Strikes could probably just look up whenever he wanted.

Not that it bothered him. Putting a face to the enemy was something many people did, and something most people needed. For others it made the 'bad guys' less intimidating. If they had a face, then that told you that they were humans like you, not mindless, faceless monsters. For some, it gave them closure and guilt for their kills. For others, it fueled their hatred and will to fight. For Mihaly, it was all a part of his process. He learned as much as he could about pilots he'd downed. Those that were documented aces, at least. It gave him motivation. It gave him understanding. More importantly, he thought he could honor them better that way. The longer they survived against him, the better.

Three Strikes seemed to have no face. He just had symbols. Mihaly wasn't afraid of him, but rather intrigued. Three Strikes was the only pilot in all of Mihaly's career that had managed to get a hit on him, with the exception of Yellow 13. However, that wasn't an official hit. Still, Three Strikes had skill, endurance, and obviously some sort of foolish courage to perform the stunts that Mihaly had either heard of or seen himself. The fact that already this pilot had made a name for himself instead of crashing nose first into the ground was surprising. Mihaly needed to learn more. And when the time came to face Three Strikes, he would be fully prepared. Nothing was going to get in his way at this point.

A knock on the door brought Mihaly out of his thoughts, but it didn't startled him. He turned to look at the door, figuring that it was one of his wingmen. Who else could it possibly be? Ionela or Alma, perhaps, but they had a distinct knock that was soft and had rhythm to it. This knock had nothing. It was just hard and quick. "Come in," he called out, neatly folding the piece of paper with the writing he needed on it. The door opened just as Mihaly closed the drawer in his nightstand, slipping the paper into it on top of the journal that he kept to document his sorties. As he turned around, he saw Wit standing in the doorway, a curious look on his face. Mihaly, ever patient with him, didn't allow Wit to bring up the scrap of paper or what Mihaly was doing. "I assume you came for something important?"

"Yes, sir," Wit said quickly in reply. "We need to prep for an operation. They don't want to send the drones in to intercept until they're sure of Osea's next move. Schroeder says they've taken too many losses recently. The IUN is launching another attack nearing Erusean territory." He stepped aside to allow Mihaly to exit, and shut the door behind him as the two quickly started down the hall. Mihaly barely glanced at him, picking up a brisk pace. Wit, ever confident in Sol Squadron's abilities, continued, "It should be an easy mission. It's that smaller squadron we've run into a couple of times before. All we have to do is chase them off and head home. No reason why there should be any complications."

"I know for a fact that I've told you never to underestimate your enemy," Mihaly said to him, withholding a sigh. "Their pilots are just as skilled as we are, if not lacking in any sort of teamwork. Ever since we came across them at Chopinburg, they've been more alert. It taught them a lesson as much as it did us. Expect complications and prepare for them so that you're able to counter or prevent them."

"Right," Wit said, almost seeming embarrassed by his own brief moment of cockiness. "Sorry, King."

Now Mihaly allowed a sigh. "I said not to call me that…"

* * *

**New Arrows Air Base, East of Usea.**  
_**August 15th, 2019.**_  
**1027hrs.**

Pixy entered Wiseman's office with the major, closing the door with a sigh once they were both inside. Although he had enjoyed spending the morning in the air again, stretching his wings so to speak and confirming that his Eagle was indeed still as maneuverable as ever, he hadn't been too pleased with other outcomes. He'd gone up with Wiseman, Jaeger, and Fencer as his 'wingman' for the training they had planned. Naomi, Count, Tabloid, and Tailor were the subjects of said training. Even odds, more experienced pilots against almost equally skilled pilots, all of them flying the same aircraft.

At first, it was all going well. Naomi led the other three well for most of the fight. In the end, they all started to make more and more slip-ups. Count and Naomi, flying as number two and one respectively, refused to cooperate with the other as the fight progressed. Count broke from their formation, ditching Naomi and the others to take on Jaeger and Fencer by himself. He 'shot down' Jaeger and after about five minutes of chasing each others tails, he was ultimately knocked out of the fight by Fencer. Tabloid and Tailor followed orders well, but Tailor had the most difficulty with his timing. Pixy was worried at first that he'd crash right into Tabloid. Thankfully, Tabloid managed to prevent that from happening.

However, Wiseman and Fencer informed Pixy about Tailor's strengths and weaknesses and all three of them worked to separate him from Naomi and Tabloid when they all regrouped after losing Count. Pixy and Fencer split the two older, more skilled pilots away with some difficulty, and Wiseman managed to take on Tailor with absolutely no problems whatsoever. Tailor managed to evade for a few minutes before Wiseman eventually bested him in the fight. Fencer was eventually taken out of the fight by Naomi when she'd gotten on his tail to protect Tabloid, and she and Tabloid took on Wiseman and Pixy together. Tabloid was eventually out of the fight when he'd been fooled by Pixy.

That had left Naomi up against two pilots. She held her own for a long time, eventually managing to get a lock on Pixy. However, it was broken before the required time for it to count as a kill was reached when Wiseman came up on her six. With all of her wingmen gone, there wasn't anyone to cover her. She and Wiseman evaded for a while before heading after one another head on, taking each other out simultaneously. Of course, both were still flying and after the time was reached they simply broke off in opposite directions to avoid colliding with one another. But Pixy was still alive, marking it as a victory for them. After that they moved on to less exciting activities, Pixy having promised that he'd teach them some of his own special tricks in the air.

Now they were back on the ground, free for the rest of the day. Pixy grunted with effort as he sat down, sighing with relief. He was a little tired after the fight, real or not. At least now he knew that he hadn't lost his touch. But, he was nearly 'killed' by his own daughter, so one could argue that he actually _had_ lost it and was just in denial. Who could say for sure? Pixy knew he couldn't. He sighed, taking a look around the room, finally settling on staring out the window at the sky. "That wasn't the worst mock battle I've ever seen. Things were going fine until Count was out of the picture, come to think of it."

"He was supposed to be covering Trigger," Wiseman said, his voice containing just the slightest hint of annoyance. "Those two work together well for the most part, so long as they're in agreement. The second Count doesn't like an order, he zips off to do whatever and leaves his squadron for dead. One of these days it's going to get him killed for real." He sighed, skimming the file that had been placed on his desk. "We have an operation coming up, too. Briefing is tomorrow morning and we have to spend the rest of the week prepping for it. After that, well…I'm not sure what we're going to do. I'll have to see how things play out. Overall, I need a good way to get Count's head out of his ass."

"Eh, give him time," Pixy said with a shrug. It's not like Count was his favorite person in the world, and he'd only known him for a few days. But from what he could see the guy was arrogant, over confident, and stubborn. Naomi had stuck up for him a day or two before when Pixy brought him up, claiming that he could be pretty loyal when he wanted to be. Pixy, however, didn't see it. At all. He was a good pilot, though. Pixy would give him that. He just needed to stop being an idiot and learn to work together with his teammates instead of always trying to outdo them. Wiseman knew this, as he'd already mentioned it before. "I'm sure he'll come around eventually. He's an ex-con, so I wouldn't expect him to change after just a few days."

"I know that," Wiseman replied. "I was just hoping that he'd improve a little before we went up again. He's getting…better. All of my pilots have been troubled in some way or another, but I managed to get them to talk to me. But with Count it's like he's set up a wall and refuses to let anybody in. He's prickly and outwardly hostile towards just about everyone." The major sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hands. "And it's not just him. I'm a little worried about Trigger, too. It's like she's got a death wish. Too reckless, and lacks the right amount of teamwork. She doesn't enjoy trying to move in sync with anyone for too long and likes doing her own thing, but she managed well enough with the platform. Still, both of them are too confident with themselves and independent in the air. On the ground I can't tear them away from their friends for too long, but in the air it's like they avoid their allies on purpose."

"To help build trust in the air, you're going to have to build it on the ground first," Pixy pointed out, recalling time spent with his own allies on the ground and how it improved their performance and teamwork in the air. "I can't do anything for Count, but you could talk to Naomi and the rest of the former Spare crew and ask them to make an effort to reach out to him. Maybe Long Caster and Jaeger could try teaching Naomi a few things about teamwork, too. Fair warning, she's incredibly stubborn when she wants to be."

He shrugged, flipping the file detailing the next operation shut and sliding it away. Wiseman paused, tapping his index finger on the top of it thoughtfully before he leaned back in his seat. "Worth a shot. But I'd like to try reaching the two of them on my own first. And if push comes to shove then I'll see if the others can make a connection or something close to it. All in all, I can't blame them for being wary or independent after the mentality they had to develop in the 444th. I stand by my belief that they all need one another, though."

Pixy nodded, realizing that he had a good point. "You might be right…some people just need a bit of a push to realize it, though."

Wiseman chuckled, a grin spreading across his face and he nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes they do…"

"So, it sounds like the next operation is going to be pretty big. I mean, judging from how many days in advance you're giving the briefing," Pixy said, changing the subject away from the foolishness of the younger pilots. In truth, he was actually hoping to find out what the plan was. At least it would make him feel a little more involved. Besides, he could be able to offer some advice for them depending on the mission. Without a word, Wiseman handed him the folder and allowed him to look it over. He was surprised, to say the least, closing the folder and nodding slowly. "I was right."

"Yeah, it isn't gonna be easy," Wiseman said with a blank expression. There was some concern that showed through in his eyes, though. "Our formation is going to stay the same. If all goes well, it shouldn't be a problem, but I don't want to run the risk of losing Tabloid or Tailor so they're staying at the base. I should probably talk with Trigger about it some more, considering that she faced one of those things. Hell, we might just find out the damn thing is indestructible."

"Well, the Arsenal Birds were developed by Osea, so they're probably armed to the teeth. Not to mention that Gründer Industries is tight with Erusea. Chances are they improved its defenses…" Pixy said thoughtfully, going over everything he knew about it in his mind, picking out the only useful parts he could think of. "Stonehenge is pretty powerful. I…er…knew someone that served in ISAF during the Continental War. That thing sounds pretty powerful. I think it'd be more than a match for that stupid, giant drone."

Wiseman nodded in agreement. "Oh, we don't doubt that. And apparently the team assigned to restore the railgun actually found a way to modify it to their needs and give it an extra kick just in case. I'm just worried about my men going up against that thing. Erusea's been modifying all of their drones, not just that prototype that we were chasing down. These things are a massive pain in the ass to deal with, and I don't want to lose anybody to them. Knowing Trigger's history of recklessness, though…well, she's too unpredictable. I trust her to lead, but I don't trust her not to continue with that borderline suicidal mentality that she seems to adopt every time she gets in the air."

Pixy shrugged. "I don't know how to help there. Like I said, they did what they needed to survive prison. I'm not saying I'm not concerned, but you could actually use that to your advantage if you really needed to."

"If _I_ can find a way to use it to _my_ advantage, then believe me..." Wiseman said, his expression and tone turning serious, "...so can the enemy." He leaned back in his chair again, and both men went quiet after that. Pixy had been trying to avoid thinking of that, but he couldn't deny that Wiseman had a point. But neither of them seemed to know a way to get her to change. Or to get any one of them to change. Wiseman sighed after a while. "I wasn't trying to worry you. I don't know if it'll work, but I can try talking to Long Caster about trying some of the tricks we did with the others to turn them into team players. Even now, that's debatable, but they became more reasonable. If nothing happens during this operation, then I'll drop the idea, but I might have to take the tough love approach before long."

"By all means, be my guest," Pixy said, chuckling slightly. "You're their commander. The call is yours to make."

"I have a few ideas." Wiseman's lips curled into a small smile. "But only if she or Count pull some stupid stunt out there."

"From what you tell me and from what I've seen, it sounds…more than likely," Pixy agreed reluctantly. He didn't want to think about his daughter doing stupid, reckless stuff in the air, but the truth was that she did. Hell, that's where most of her reputation seemed to be coming from. But sooner or later, she could get herself hurt or killed. Wiseman understood this as well as Pixy did. They could only sit there and pray that Naomi figured that out before it happened.

* * *

_**August 16th, 2019.**_  
**0731hrs.**

"Any ideas what this is all about?" Tabloid asked as he and Avril walked alongside Naomi and Count on their way to the briefing room. Their breakfast had been interrupted and they were all told to report immediately for a briefing of some sort. Naomi was actually surprised that they might be having another operation so soon. Then again, the LRSSG probably needed to keep moving in order to reach the Erusean capital at a reasonable time. Wait too long and they might lose their chance, giving Erusea more time to prepare for any attacks on their capital.

Bandog, walking behind the four of them, was the first to answer Tabloid's question. "Whatever it is, it probably is going to mean more work for the ground crew. I heard a rumor floating around that whatever this is about is going to play a big role in the push to Farbanti. Which means all of your planes are going to need extra maintenance so they can hold up, so all in all, you pilots get to go and have a good time blowing stuff up and the rest of us get no credit once again."

"What are you complaining for?" Avril asked him with an irritated huff, glancing over her shoulder at him. "As if you do even _half_ of the work I do. I have to monitor you the entire time, like you're a freaking toddler or something."

"Oh, so you frequently throw wrenches at small children then?" Bandog asked with a sneer, recalling a recent event and demonstration of Avril's incredibly short temper.

Avril smirked slightly, whereas the other three all burst out laughing. Just a few days before, the day after their last mission, when Avril was trying to show Bandog how to work on aircraft and fix damage done to them in a battle, Avril had taken her eyes off of him just a moment to go and speak with someone about needing to order some new parts before long and Bandog had accidentally ruined what they'd been working all morning. Naomi and Count had been talking nearby with Tabloid, Húxiān, and the rest of Strider Squadron when out of nowhere Bandog comes sprinting past them and they see a wrench fly across the hangar at him. Everyone found it hysterical, including Sarge who woke up from her nap just to bark and get in Bandog and Avril's way.

Needless to say, Bandog was being extremely wary of Avril whenever she had a wrench in her hands. And Count would not let the situation go. He'd been bringing it up every chance that he could in an attempt to embarrass Bandog, but after a while it seemed that their grouchy guard dog was starting to pick a little fun at himself. Although his jab was mostly directed at Avril, so maybe it was just the situation as a whole. Who could say for sure, honestly.

The laughter died down as they reached the door, and Naomi opened it for the others to enter. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm sure the two of you will do a splendid job with helping us prep as always." Count and Tabloid said something in agreement as they stepped past her into the room. Naomi grinned as Avril and Bandog passed her, adding to them, "Just try not to dent our planes whenever you decide to have another wrench throwing contest."

Avril rolled her eyes and followed Tabloid inside. Bandog scowled and added in his regular, angry tone, "Trigger, do me a favor and try not making anymore jokes without seeking help from a professional first."

"Professional _what_?" Naomi asked, furrowing her brow as Bandog stepped inside with Naomi close behind him. The door clicked shut behind her. "You mean, like a professional comedian?"

"No, a psychiatrist," Bandog replied dryly as he took a seat behind the four of them. He scoffed. "I swear, Trigger, you could pass as a blonde more than Count could."

Count frowned and shifted in his seat to look back at Bandog. "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Actually, I take that back," Bandog replied, stifling a laugh at Count's reaction.

Count knew very well what Bandog meant, rolling his eyes and settling back into his seat as Naomi sat beside him. For a few moments he looked her up and down. She looked at him, silently asking what he was doing. He started to smile, and then chuckled slightly. "Nah, Bandog's wrong. You couldn't pull off being a blonde. I mean, just because you've got the stereotypical intelligence level of one doesn't mean you'd look good with the actual color."

Naomi smacked his arm, glaring over her shoulder at Bandog (who looked quite satisfied with himself), making her annoyance clear. "I'm tired," she argued, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. "The coffee hasn't quite kicked in yet, so don't expect much from me until it does…" Her three friends chuckled softly to themselves, with Avril shaking her head and trying hard to fight off a smile.

After a few minutes, they were joined by everyone else. And by everyone else, Naomi was pretty sure it was literally every single person on that base, regardless of their jobs. Or at least as many as they could fit in the room, with some of them having to stand up instead of sit with their coworkers. It became crowded quickly. Strider and Cyclops Squadron sat at the front, with Avril sitting on the end just because she wasn't planning on moving and she glared at anyone that looked like they'd try and make her sit with the rest of the ground crew in the back. There were a few doctors, a couple of the civilian contractors that were stationed on the base, and most of the ground crew that worked on or near the planes. Part of her wondered if any of them would be going along on the operation. If they were, then it must be an important mission. And probably one that they were expecting to possibly get ugly.

Before long, they were joined by Wiseman, Long Caster, and Commander Hawkins. The base commander looked around the room as the massive screen they had displayed the Usean Continent highlighting the territories under allied control and the areas still under Erusean control. "Sorry to call everyone here so last minute, but I needed everybody prepared ahead of time for the operation," Hawkins said to them, and all background chatter ceased as they gave him their undivided attention. "You may be well aware that our counteroffensive operation has begun to change the course of the war, all thanks to Strider and Cyclops Squadron. However, the western part of the continent and the area around the space elevator still remain under Erusean control."

The map centered on the 3D Space Elevator on the screen and showed the little arrowhead Arsenal Bird patrolling the area. It was Wiseman's turn to speak, looking over at the commander for permission before he did. "Now, as you all may know, this is because they have those damn Arsenal Birds controlling the skies around the Lighthouse," he said. "Which is why this operation is so important. We're going to use Stonehenge to conduct a long-range attack on the Arsenal Bird. Hopefully we can clip its wings for good. Now, you all know about Stonehenge. You can read about it in any history book. In addition to helping destroy the asteroid, Stonehenge was also utilized by the Erusean forces as a weapon in the Continental War."

"However, the majority of the artillery is out of action after an air raid by the Independent State Allied Forces, or ISAF as they're better known," Hawkins replied. The map now displayed an image of Stonehenge, also showing photos of magazine covers from around the time that Stonehenge was being constructed off to the side as the map circled around the massive facility. "When that happened, the main base was being repaired from damage caused by the asteroid, so it managed to escape the bombardment. Erusea believed it to be useless after the attack, and has left it abandoned for a good fourteen years by now. But the Osean Army has been conducting repairs in secret, and they've managed to reactivate its base systems."

It zoomed out of Stonehenge, showing the area surrounding it and it showed several allied squadrons moving in from various positions. Wiseman continued for the commander. "And once the preparations are complete, it should be able to fire again. They've already made several upgrades to the railgun in question, which means it has an extra boost just in case. We've maintained contact with the Army and the officer in charge of the repairs, however they're unable to confirm whether it can be fired more than once. In other words, we're probably only gonna have one chance to bring down one of those invulnerable Arsenal Birds, so every bit of help during this mission counts. We're going all in on this one plan, so we need cooperation from everyone."

Naomi narrowed her eyes, remembering all of her recent experiences with the Arsenal Birds. All of them had been a pain in the ass to deal with, and nearly all of them caused the death of several allies. She raised her hand, and Wiseman and Hawkins nodded for her to say something. "What about the Arsenal Birds defenses? The drones, those stupid Helios missile things Erusea developed, or even the stupid shield that the Arsenal Birds have already built in. For one, all of the missiles that hit it do absolutely nothing to damage it. Any aircraft that get caught inside of it are gone within a matter of seconds. I've seen it happen myself, and it isn't pretty. And even with damaged propellers, the damn thing still flew away from the fight and was operational within just a few days. The likelihood of this actually working and us taking no losses are…well, the odds aren't exactly in our favor."

"Have a little optimism, Trigger," Tabloid said to her, trying for a small, reassuring smile. Naomi didn't return it, not liking the idea of possibly losing anyone to the drones. But Tabloid continued regardless. "We've all been up against worse odds before. Besides, I'm sure they've thought this through."

"He's right, Trigger," Wiseman said, and both of them turned their attention back to the front of the room. "But Stonehenge was and still is a powerful weapon. Even if it does deploy its shield, a shot from Stonehenge might be able to tear through it. Our biggest problem is going to be the Erusean military. They've already detected our movement, and we've received word last night that they've begun marching on Stonehenge. We've had to hurry our pace along, but that doesn't mean that it's any less thought out."

For the first time during the briefing, Long Caster spoke up, "The Arsenal Bird is closing in as well, but if everything goes according to plan then we should be able to shoot it down before it reaches the operation area. This means that we'll be able to reduce our own casualties, hopefully stopping it before it sends in any drones to intercept. Also, from what we've heard, only one of the Arsenal Birds was equipped with Helios. As it was a newly developed weapon. It's a 50/50 chance, but it's doubtful that they'd risk sending in the one with all their special new upgrades in."

"We've set up several strongpoints we call 'Menhirs' around Stonehenge, in order to protect the facility from any advancing Erusean ground troops," Hawkins went on. "Provide them with air support, all while keeping air superiority."

Wiseman nodded. "Our mission is to protect Stonehenge until it can shoot down that monster bird," he said. The map zoomed away from Stonehenge and showed the area around the space elevator. "If we manage to shoot down even one Arsenal Bird, it'll significantly reduce the scale of the enemy's air defense network." The large circle shrunk for reference, reducing it to only the area over Selatapura and Gunther Bay. It didn't open up the Lighthouse, but it would make it easier to get there.

"Stonehenge is currently our only way of bringing down an Arsenal Bird. Missing is a luxury that we cannot afford," Hawkins said, wrapping up the briefing. "I want everyone prepared for a rough fight. In addition to the pilots of Cyclops and Strider, I'll be personally selecting a few doctors and other ground crew to head out tonight, before the enemy ground forces cut off our approach. Dismissed." The screen circled around their operation area, showing the predicted locations of a few enemies and highlighting their allies.

Naomi sat there, staring at the screen until almost everyone was gone. Strider Squadron stood nearby, out of her way so that she could see the screen. Cyclops Squadron, who'd headed up front to speak to Wiseman, glanced her way with some sort of concern. She didn't exactly blame them. She wasn't happy about the plan, and as much as she wanted one of those stupid birds to just drop out of the sky, she didn't want to lose any more of her friends. Naomi looked away from the screen, over to Avril, Tabloid, and Bandog, who were speaking with Commander Hawkins. They'd probably find a way to weasel themselves into the mission somehow, with a convincing argument as to how valuable they could be.

If Hawkins refused to allow them to head out tonight, then it meant that Naomi only had to worry about those that she was flying with. She didn't want to worry about them getting killed by the Erusean troops on the ground, should Stonehenge's defenses fail and their air support not be able to help them. Sure, she knew that all of them were good enough to prevent that from happening, but the worst case scenarios were all she could think about.

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone tapping on her shoulder. Naomi looked away from Hawkins and the others to find out who thought it was a good idea to butt in. She was met by both Count and Wiseman standing side by side, Count looking a little more annoyed and simultaneously concerned in comparison to Wiseman. Count was the first of the two to start speaking. "Okay, I'm the one that's supposed to have the sour expression 24/7," he said with an irritated sigh, that Naomi could tell was fake. Wiseman could too, biting back a smile. Count went on. "What's got you so riled up?"

"None of you have been face to face with the Arsenal Bird," Naomi said quickly, her expression softening. She wasn't angry, so much as she was worried, and she let it show now that she was confronted about it. "The first time you see that thing, it's terrifying. Impressive, but terrifying. If at least more than _fourteen planes_ weren't a match against that thing, what do you think eight are going to do, huh? And if Avril and Bandog go along to handle any damages we get during the fight, then I've gotta worry about them too and—"

"They aren't going," Wiseman interrupted her. She blinked in surprise, looking over her shoulder in time to catch the somewhat annoyed and disappointed look on all three of them as Hawkins murmured something. She looked back at Wiseman and he gave an understanding smile. "The ground crew going along aren't any of your friends. They might not be on par with your Scrap Queen, but they know what they're doing and they've been in situations like this before. Hawkins already had some people picked out before you all joined us. We've had this set up for at least a month, now."

Both Naomi and Count remembered the reconnaissance mission, and the LRSSG returning through Yinshi Valley. All along with what Full Band had said about them 'investigating the ruins' or something like that. They were investigating Stonehenge, likely also trying to find the gap in Erusea's defensive network. It didn't make perfect sense, but at least that explained everything that Full Band dug up. And also why it was important that the information wasn't leaked. And also the fact that it was already leaked, thanks to the fact that McKinsey was being bought out. All in all, the conspiracies seemed to have come full circle and Naomi didn't know whether to be impressed, pleased, or worried. No telling what other information was floating around out there.

Neither of them said anything about it, and neither of them were going to. Wiseman looked between them as if he already knew what they were thinking, sighing. "We all made sacrifices to get this far, and to not act on it would be pointless. If we're going to try then we need to try. Everybody will have each other's backs out there, and we're all going to make it home safe and sound." He looked around at the nearby Strider and Cyclops pilots, all lingering nearby but not saying anything. It seemed as if we was waiting for either agreement or protest, but neither came and he gave a satisfied nod. "Perfect. Now let's go. We've got a lot to get ready for."

_Yes. Yes we do…_Naomi thought, rising from her seat and taking one last look at the mission display. She realized now that if they shot one down now then it would save them more trouble and casualties in the future. And least she'd be taking care of half of what she considered the 'responsible party'. _For Brownie..._

* * *

**Stonehenge, Hatties Desert.**  
_**August 19th, 2019.**_  
**1009hrs.**

They all set out early in the morning to reach the desert, armed to the teeth and ready for just about anything. Allied forces were already preparing to engage the enemy forces, and the Eruseans were more than ready to face them. Through the radio chatter between their allies, the sound of a siren could be heard clearly in the background. Whatever the reason for the siren was unknown to Naomi. Could simply mean that the facility was being operated, or maybe it was a psychological thing. She wasn't well-versed in that sort of thing, but sirens always brought an instant reaction and Naomi suspected that it was because they always meant danger. Or perhaps it literally meant danger in this situation and it was a way of telling everyone to get their ass in gear because their lives depended on it.

All of the railguns stood in a perfect circle, and all but one of them was facing the ground. Even from where the two squadrons were making their approach, you could see the obvious damage done to them. One of them, set up near a massive mark in the ground from the impact of an asteroid fragment, was facing the sky. Several trucks and massive cables were set up nearby, and it was being protected only by a single cluster of vehicles that Naomi guessed were one of their Menhir units. Sure enough, they were marked as such on their HUDs.

A voice suddenly sounded over the radio as soon as Long Caster announced their arrival. It belonged to a woman, sounding very mature and straightforward as she spoke, "It's about time you arrived. We've heard good things about your squadrons. Let's just hope that they're all true…" Naomi was a little offended by the woman's words. Did everyone doubt them, or did they just not trust rumors they'd heard, however positive? She didn't have time to think about it much longer, since they were radioed by the woman again. "Attention, all defensive and air support teams. In order to get my program up and running, what I need most from you is time. As long as you can provide me that, my program _will_ bring down the Arsenal Bird."

It was then that a much friendlier voice came along, sounding more lighthearted and patient than his companion. "You don't always have to get straight to business. Some introductions are nice once in a while, y'know?" the new voice said to the woman. He sighed, but it wasn't out of annoyance but rather an exaggerated, comical huff. "That lovely voice belonged to Major Deanna McOnie. She's in charge of everything down here. I'm Warrant Officer Lehmann, a specialist. We are now commencing the operation to destroy the Arsenal Bird. Good luck out there, you guys."

"I know I've said this before, but it's gonna be a long fight. Don't waste any ammo," Wiseman advised them. "We'll split up and attack. Trigger, keep an eye on Strider Squadron. Make sure everyone gets home safe."

"Roger that, Wiseman. Planned to do that anyways," Naomi replied, taking a quick look around before she and the rest of Strider Squadron broke away from Cyclops Squadron and made a dive for the enemies facing Menhir 6. As they made a low approach, everyone got a good look at the massive railgun as they shot past it. There were four targets, sitting there just waiting to be picked off. Without missing the opportunity, the three planes behind her spread out beside her and all four of them simultaneously got a lock on each of their targets. And once Naomi gave the order, they all fired and the targets were destroyed.

As they all circled around, searching for their next targets, Húxiān remarked, "So this is Stonehenge, huh? Bigger than I imagined. Uglier, too." In spite of her comment about its appearance, it seemed like she was at least somewhat impressed. And it was hard not to be.

"Yeah," Skald said in agreement. "But look at that mess of cables. They're using generator trucks to run it."

"If that's the case, then are we sure that thing's even gonna fire?" Count asked with a scoff. "Seriously, I mean how old is it?"

"Actually, younger than everyone here," Naomi replied. "It's…what? Twenty years old?" She took a look at it before turning her attention back on supporting Menhir 6. "Not to worry, Count. Weren't you and Tabloid telling me to be optimistic? I'm sure it'll fire."

"If it doesn't, then our luck's run dry," Wiseman said with a sigh. "I'd get prayin' if I were you. Now do me a favor and lighten up a little."

"Well, if it works, it'll bring down even an Arsenal Bird," Lanza put in after a sigh, opting for a more positive approach to the situation.

"Big 'if'," Fencer put in. "_And_ it'd have to actually hit."

Naomi rolled her eyes, pulling up from an APC that she'd just taken out. "Gee, Fencer, that's the spirit. Didn't Wiseman ask us to lighten up?"

"I wasn't negative about it," Fencer countered, sounding rather cheery. "In fact, I'd actually say I'm the most cheery person here. Well, next to Lanza, but he's almost never in a bad mood."

Nobody said much after that, trying to focus on eliminating the enemy. Cyclops Squadron was keeping the enemy fighters at bay, while Strider Squadron continued to go from ground unit to ground unit, taking care of the Erusean takes and anti-air weaponry. Wiseman was going all out with his pulse lasers, but Naomi was holding back with using her own. They inflicted a lot of damage, and they'd be useful, but that was precisely why she was conserving them. She needed them in case they had to actually go against the Arsenal Bird. Nothing ever went exactly according to plan, and chances were that the Arsenal Bird probably wouldn't wait for a long range attack to come to it. In fact, it might just intercept them in an attempt to eliminate the threat before there was one.

So Naomi kept using her missiles, and machine gun. Avril and Bandog worked hard to increase everyone's missile load so that they'd have some extra firepower in the battle. Well, Avril did most of the work. Bandog suggested it, but beyond that Naomi was pretty sure that Avril kept him as far away from the weapon's system. She didn't trust him to do a good job, and she probably still didn't trust him in general. But they'd done a pretty good job. Everyone had enough to last through the battle, for sure. Hopefully.

"Long Caster, this is Menhir 5. Enemy tanks dead ahead. Requesting close air support," came the voice of one of the commanders of the ground defenses.

"Menhir 5, request for close air support confirmed," Long Caster replied, sounding once again as if he was talking with his mouth full. Naomi didn't find it annoying, just confusing. Did he ever stop eating? And just how bad was his judgement if he didn't have something to eat? As with just about everything else she thought about during a fight, Long Caster interrupted it with a quick order, "Strider Squadron, provide cover for Menhir 5. You've all got it, right? If not, then we can send Cyclops in to help out as well."

Naomi took a look at her radar and the targets displayed on the HUD. It didn't look like much, and if they were quick about it then there shouldn't be any trouble with it. "Don't worry, Long Caster. They're busy with those fighters. I think we can handle it," she answered, preparing for a quick approach on one group of enemies. Skald stayed close to her wing, and Lanza and Jaeger split off together to handle a different group. "Strider 1 to Menhir 5. I'd cover my ears if I were you, boys. This one's gonna hurt."

The four F-15s made a low, likely incredibly loud approach, firing missiles and their machine guns at everything they could get a lock on. Within a matter of minutes, nearly all of the enemy tanks, SAM sites, and APCs were wiped out by their attack. The commander of Menhir 5 let out a chuckle. "That oughta show them," he said. "Not too bad. I think we've got it covered from here. Much obliged for the air support." The commander then addressed his men, "Our job is to defend here, that's all. Now that the air support's softened the enemies up for you, why don't you go and earn your paychecks now."

"Major McOnie, what's your status?" Long Caster asked, checking in with the major and her team.

Distractedly, and most likely not even to them, Major McOnie answered, "Powering main system. Cold boot. Skipping sequences 47 to 97..."

Lehmann stepped in to give a definitive answer, since none of them had understood a word of what the major said. "Activating. We just need one shot. Afraid that's all I've got for ya."

Skald and Lanza both took down an enemy MiG, practically cornering the enemy aircraft and going after it like a pack of wolves. Naomi and Jaeger paired up to take on the enemy pilot's wingman, taking turns firing at it. One missile from Naomi, one from Jaeger, and then a third missile from Naomi to finish it off. Strider Squadron formed up again, pulling around to pick out the next place they'd attack. One of the Menhirs did it for them, though, radioing them all, "This is Menhir 7. We've linked up with ground and air support and are ready to drive the enemy back! Hoping for some air support as soon as you're ready."

Just as Naomi was about to give the order to move in on their location, Count called out the arrival of a new group of targets, "Additional hostiles inbound! _Great_ timing…"

"Bombers! Bearing 190!" Long Caster confirmed with an urgent tone. "Stonehenge won't survive a bomb run. You have to stop them."

"Menhir 7, you've got a lot of tanks closing in on your position," Naomi said to them with a sigh, noting that the enemy was closing in on them from three different positions. "Can you guys make it until we get back?"

"Allied aircraft, don't worry about us. We can hold off for a while," Menhir 7's commander replied. "Just go and take out those bombers before they shut down our party."

Cyclops and Strider Squadron both pulled away from the fight, heading out to meet the bombers head on. They closed in faster than expected, their fighter escorts moving to loyally defend them until their payload could be delivered. Naomi, Wiseman, Count, and Skald each took on a bomber, while the rest of their squadrons worked together to separate the enemy fighters from the bombers. Húxiān was the first to score one of the fighter escorts, downing it swiftly with a spray of gunfire. Jaeger and Lanza worked together on one of them, keeping him away from his wingman before finishing him off. The pilot ejected safely, Strider 3 and 4 careful to dodge his chute to allow him a safe descent. Fencer took care of the last fighter, clipping its wing and sending the Rafale down in a spiral. Once again, the Erusean pilot ejected with no problems and followed his plane to the desert floor at a slower, safer speed.

Count pulled up and circled around to get himself positioned on his bomber's tail, and with a careful missile shot he downed the large aircraft. Wiseman was quick to finish off his, and then Skald and Naomi. The bombers weren't any trouble now and Stonehenge was safe. In the meantime, it seemed that the soldiers working to get the railgun ready to fire were completely unaware of the danger they could have been in. Lehmann casually announced to them all, "We've only got 60% green. We got 30% yellow, 10% is red. That's…I figured we'd have made more progress than that."

"Well, it has been rusting away out here for the past twenty years. I'd say a few glitches are to be expected," McOnie answered, sounding surprisingly accepting of the information and not too surprised by it. And she stated why, so Naomi guessed that the woman had a point. "Hurry and verify the reds and yellows. And hurry it up. We don't have all day!"

They didn't focus for too long on what McOnie and Lehmann had said, simply acknowledging it and moving on to find their next target. After being silent for a few minutes, Menhir 7's commander called out for them, "This is Menhir 7! We're getting overrun. We need reinforcements."

"Menhir 7 is hot. Let's go give 'em some help," Jaeger suggested, and Naomi and Wiseman both led the way, with their wingmen following close behind.

They all got a good look at just how bad things were for Menhir 7, able to see some smoke from their allies' side and rapid gunfire coming from the enemy's forces. Naomi dove for an enemy tank, turning it into nothing more than a pile of burning metal before furiously gunning down an APC and then pulling clear of the ground. They just kept coming, refusing to let up on the Osean forces. If Stonehenge was so important to them, why did they not think to capture it before Osea got their hands on it? It didn't seem that they were aware of Osea's plan until recently, and now they were making a desperate attempt to catch up and stop them. It was Skald that pointed this out as a squadron of A-10s began to close in on Stonehenge. "Dammit! The enemy's going all out. They're getting desperate…guess this operation is every bit as important to them as it is to us."

"I've got some bad news for you guys. We've got more bombers incoming. You have to intercept them," Long Caster said with a sigh. "There's just no end in sight…they keep coming…"

Cyclops and Strider hurried up to finish off the hostiles pinning down Menhir 7, with Naomi eyeing her radar to figure out how much time they had until the bombers would reach Stonehenge. Scanning the ground, she didn't see any other enemies bothering the ground unit. Skald and Fencer had taken out the enemy A-10s, returning with their squadron. Menhir 7's leader gave a sigh of relief. "That's the last of the enemy reinforcements. For now, anyways. I'm giving my men a 15-minute vacation. Sorry, but I need a short breather myself. I'll just be here stitching on my lost limbs, but I should be back before lunch."

"What did you say?" Count asked in surprise, sounding a little disturbed by the comment. Naomi and the others found the morbid joke a little funny. Dry, perhaps not meant to be funny, but Naomi thought Count's reaction made it even better.

"Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't joking…" Naomi answered with a tired chuckle, already tired from flying back and forth to deal with the enemies. "I'm gonna go get those bombers…sick and tired of this shit."

"Tell me about it," Húxiān huffed in agreement. "It's like goddamn whack-a-mole out here. I'm already exhausted!"

"Grit yo' teeth and fly, you two," Wiseman said to them. "Remember that the fate of the whole war depends on this mission! Just try and think like the enemy. You should know what their next action is."

Naomi nodded, but didn't say anything as she and Strider intercepted the enemy bombers. Jaeger, Skald, and Lanza intercepted the escorts and kept them off of Naomi while she picked off the bombers one by one. It wasn't difficult, and she was honestly working as fast as she could so they could have just a few moments of rest. But the break was short lived, and Count called out to everyone, "More hostiles are advancing towards Menhir 6 and Menhir 7. Ground forces haven't noticed yet!"

"Let's take out the enemy while our friends are still on their feet," Húxiān said with a more positive tone than she'd had the entire mission. Actually in the most positive way that Naomi had ever heard from her. Cyclops and Strider split up, with Cyclops Squadron heading to assist Menhir 7 and Strider Squadron making a move to support Menhir 6. No sooner had they all engaged with the other enemy ground forces did yet another group of bombers appear on radar.

"Dammit…we've got more bombers incoming," Long Caster informed them. "They're high! Altitude 8,000, bearing 150!"

"The enemy's going all out, aren't they?" Jaeger asked with a sigh.

"More hostiles? Fantastic!" Count chirped, but there wasn't any sarcasm that Naomi could pick up on. In fact, he sounded back to his regular, cocky self. "My score's just gonna keep climbing!"

Wiseman sighed. "You'll never learn, will you?" he asked, mostly to himself. Count didn't answer. In fact, he didn't seem to hear him, which was odd considering how he talked back to Wiseman. Maybe he just didn't care. Whatever the reason, their commander didn't dwell on Count's kill competition for very long. "Those bombers aren't going to take care of themselves…I don't want to risk leaving Menhir 7, though. Count! You're staying here with me. Quit chasing after Strider Squadron!"

"Bombers are closing in," Long Caster warned. "One of you figure out something before Stonehenge takes any damage! They're coming in fast."

"Shit!" Húxiān spat as Naomi and the others waited for Wiseman to make a decision. Chances were that one of them would move to intercept and the other would handle the ground forces. Both Menhir 7 and 6 were looking bad, and leaving either one of them for too long was a bad idea. "I wanna go smack those bastards down but the boys below are hanging on by a thread!"

"She's right, Wiseman," Naomi pointed out, almost in annoyance as she wiped out an APC. They were spreading out their attacks, making it difficult to focus their attacks on a specific group. "Do you expect us to chose?"

"Strider Squadron, Menhir 6 can make it a few minutes without heavy air support. You four get those bombers _now_!" Wiseman called out quickly, having gone over his options as much as he could. "Cyclops Squadron, split up. Count, you and I will take Strider's place and protect Menhir 6 until Trigger gets back. Fencer, Húxiān, you two continue defending Menhir 7. Don't let up on the enemy and don't let your guard down!" He and Count split off from the other two, quickly flying over Stonehenge and making a fast approach. They split up to cover separate sides of Menhir 6's problems, Wiseman taking out a tank and Count eliminating an AA gun as Naomi and Strider Squadron began to climb to intercept the bombers.

Continuing to get frustrated by the enemy attacking in waves, sending them back and forth, back and forth, and back and forth, Naomi went straight for the lead bomber. By the time the fighter escorts moved to protect their precious bombers, Naomi was already working on taking care of the third bomber. There were about five or six in total, all of them making a feeble attempt to defend themselves by trying to match her gunfire. Unfortunately for them, they weren't a match for her F-15 and all of them met the same fate. Instead of staying to fight, their fighters turned tail and retreated from the airspace, not too thrilled about the idea of facing the superior squadron.

Wiseman and Count, in that time, had been forced to handle more enemy A-10s that were approaching Stonehenge and threatening their allies, leaving Menhir 6 defenseless. Naomi quickly pulled around and then dived for the ground unit, that had stopped responding. Most of them were either dead or too busy returning the enemy fire in hopes of staying alive a little longer. She spotted two tanks at the front. Not a problem. She gunned one down and fired a pair of missiles at the other, rolling as she pulled up and scanned the area for any other hostiles. Two more…an AA gun and a rocket truck. Both of them destroyed within a matter of seconds. That'd teach those bastards...

"Oh, baby, we're saved!" a soldier from Menhir 6 cried out happily. "Whoever's flyin' the bird with three lines, I'm buying you a beer later!"

Naomi grinned, but didn't say anything. She was going to hold him to that offer, though. There was some more chatter from the soldiers of Menhir 6 and a few of the other units that Naomi heard. "Wait a minute…the three lines? You think it's that pilot we heard about? The one that those Erusean pilots we captured from Roca Roja were babbling about?"

"It's gotta be him," the commander of Menhir 5 answered the soldier under his command. "But did you see the wing? You guys don't think that pilot from the Belkan War is back, do you?"

"Not likely. I mean, well…you never know…" someone else replied. "But why would the LRSSG hire a mercenary? Maybe they're related?"

Naomi ignored them as she circled around Stonehenge with the rest of her squadron, checking for any other enemies. There didn't appear to be any in the immediate area, so the eight pilots were allowed a short period of time to catch their breath, but all of them remained on edge and ready to face more enemies once again. Admittedly, Naomi wasn't correcting the ground troops that continued to call her a guy because she wanted to see their reaction when they found out that she was…well, actually a 'her'. Besides, she actually didn't care too much about it, having other priorities than snipping at someone who didn't know she was a woman.

Major McOnie gave a frustrated groan suddenly. "Railgun power supply is…dammit! The numbers aren't going up!"

"Bypass the auxiliary condenser," Lehmann said. "That should work."

"C'mon, dammit!" McOnie shouted at whatever it was that she was working on.

"Come on, baby, be good. We need you…" Lehmann added to the computer in a much friendlier, gentle voice. "We're almost there. Allied aircraft, we're doing everything we can to fire as quickly as possible. Shouldn't be much longer, so just buy us a little more time until then."

"Ha!" McOnie suddenly cried out, and the high-pitched cheer made Naomi flinch. She…was not expecting that. "Power level is at 80%! You think we should take our shot?"

Lehmann likely shook his head. "Patience. We don't want to waste everyone's hard work. Let's wait to 100."

"I guess you're right," McOnie admitted. "Let's give the fire control systems one last check while we're waiting."

Cyclops and Strider's break was rudely interrupted when more targets appeared on radar. Long Caster was quick to warn them. "Enemy rocket unit coming from the southwest, and helo-borne assault from the northeast! They're planning a direct assault on Stonehenge. Stop them!"

"Let's split up again," Wiseman suggested, sounding as tired as Naomi felt but nevertheless taking charge of the situation. "Trigger, take whichever way you like and Cyclops will handle the other target."

"Okay. Strider Squadron will handle the rocket unit," Naomi announced, heading in the direction that Long Caster had given them.

"It's all yours, Trigger. Lead the way and eliminate the enemy," Wiseman said in response as he led Cyclops in the opposite direction. "Cyclops Squadron, we've got the helos."

"Roget that," Count said quickly.

Strider Squadron closed in on the rocket unit with time to spare, before they were able to fire. It wasn't as large as Naomi was expecting, only having about eight trucks, all ready to launch but all being the easiest target out there, with only one SAM site to target enemy aircraft. Her wingman jumped on the unit after she took out the SAM site and one of the trucks near it. They could all handle it on their own. In the meantime, Naomi was going to move on to more exciting things instead of waiting around a bunch of targets that would be wiped out within a matter of seconds. Picking up speed, she withdrew from the area and made her way towards Cyclops Squadron to help them with the helicopters that they were currently working to take down. "Strider 1?" Jaeger called out to her as she flew off, but she didn't answer him. Her three wingmen remained where they were, not following after her and focusing on wiping out the rest of the rocket unit.

Before anyone realized what had happened, Naomi had downed two of the remaining six helicopters, leaving everyone confused by her suddenly swooping in out of nowhere. Naomi let out a victorious shout, but the others didn't share her enthusiasm. "What the hell are you doing, Trigger?!" Count demanded, flying alongside her after he'd taken out his own helicopter, leaving Wiseman and the others to finish cleaning up. "You're supposed to be taking care of the rocket unit!"

"Cyclops Squadron was outnumbered. Strider Squadron had the advantage with the rocket unit," Naomi replied heatedly, not taking kindly to how ungrateful he sounded. "They didn't need my help."

"Neither did we!" Count shot back, raising his voice slightly.

"I helped you out! Whether you needed it or not, maybe you could act a little more grateful, _Lieutenant_!" she replied, raising her voice as well and stressing his rank as if it made any difference. It was the first time she'd ever done that, and although she initially felt bad for it, Naomi was too frustrated by Count trying to argue with her to care for very long. Stonehenge was still safe, so what did it matter what group of targets she took on? "Both units are eliminated. Stonehenge is safe. I wouldn't have left Strider Squadron if I didn't think they could handle it."

Count started to say something, but Wiseman immediately cut him off. "That's enough!" he snapped, and there was a faint clicking sound that was either Count's mic cutting out or his teeth as he snapped his mouth shut. Wiseman sighed in frustration. "Now you want to pull a stupid stunt like that, then fine. Do what you like, Strider 1. But you better keep our friends safe. You and I are going to be having a talk about this, later. You understand that?"

Naomi mumbled a 'yes sir' and went quiet, wanting to shoot Count's snarky ass out of the sky right then and there. Maybe it was a bad idea, but it got the job done faster, so why was he making such a big deal about it? It's not like he'd never pulled stupid stunts before. As ruffled as Naomi was, he said, "I told you I should be number one, Wiseman."

"Well, if Trigger screws up then you will be," Wiseman muttered, the rest of the squadron all staying quiet and keeping out of the argument. "Now everyone drop the subject and get your heads back in the mission. I hear another word about it and whoever brought it up won't be flying for a week, you all hear me?"

And that was the end of it. Strider Squadron had finished their job and the area was free of any hostiles. They all got back in their formation, making sure that Stonehenge really would be safe until McOnie was ready. Within a few minutes, the major finally contacted them again. "You've given my program a lot of the time it needs," she said to them, taking a deep breath. "Stonehenge will be ready to fire shortly. Once it's within range then we should be ready."

"Stand by," Long Caster said quickly. "I'm picking up something on my radar. The signal is massive…oh shit. It's the Arsenal Bird!"

Not too far away, barely visible against the sun, the massive Arsenal Bird had closed in on their position. Falling away from it were the drones it carried with it, falling out and unfolding their wings in midair before pulling up and zipping around with more maneuverability than a standard aircraft had. They had no formation, no order, just a pre-programmed mission to destroy anything marked as an enemy. Unfortunately, that meant that it would probably be moving on Stonehenge and firing everything they possibly could at it.

"I have visual," Wiseman said. "Arsenal Bird confirmed!"

"It sent in its little pawns to back it up, too," Naomi snarled, readying herself for a fight. She was low on missiles, but she still had the pulse lasers. She wasn't ready to use it just yet, though.

"Here they come!" Count called out with a growl that matched Naomi's. Their spat from before was forgotten by both of them as everyone worked together and began picking off the UAVs one by one. They fell quickly, not having time initially to evade. That didn't mean that they weren't learning fast, figuring out quickly that they were going to have a hard time getting past the human pilots that were extremely unhappy with their sudden appearance.

McOnie understood that the urgency of the mission had increased, and they had to work quickly if they actually planned on going through with it. "Okay…closer the target, fewer the variables," she said, mostly to herself. "How long until we can fire?"

"Firing in sixty!" replied one of her assistants.

"You hear that?" she asked them. "Keep us safe until then!"

From then on out, radio chatter was nothing but sheer chaos, with the ground units struggling to protect the themselves and Cyclops and Strider trying to take out the swarm of UAVs that kept coming and coming. The Arsenal Bird wouldn't deploy all of its drones, though. It would probably keep some ready to go until it absolutely needed them. Although the drones were going out at a steady pace, they were beginning to slip through and target the vehicles near Stonehenge. In the mess, Naomi was losing sight of her allies, catching brief glimpses of them through the smoke and drones buzzing around. Skald was staying close to her wing. Jaeger and Lanza were attempting to keep a perimeter. Count was covering Wiseman, and Fencer and Húxiān were meeting the targets head on as they came towards the others.

"Fire-control system inspection complete. Radar error correction is good to go," Lehmann said quickly, focused on his job. Someone said something in the background to him. "What do you mean Josephine's not responding? She's right outside in the survey vehicle. She couldn't have lost connection…unless she…someone get out there and check on them! Now!" Chatter after that was simply the engineers confirming different things, announcing that they had thirty seconds and that they were ready to fire when the time came.

Naomi's missile warnings were blaring, and it seemed that as soon as it stopped it picked up again. Skald was loyally covering her tail as she fought, taking down any UAVs that tried to fire at her. She heard another warning, and it abruptly came to an end, followed by a faint explosion from behind her and Skald grunting from the impact of a missile hit. "Skald!" Naomi cried out as she realized what had happened, twisting around in an attempt to see him. He was trailing smoke, and another hit from a missile would kill him. _Oh shit…_ "Strider 2 has been hit! Skald, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied. Naomi couldn't figure out what to do next. Could he actually land? He had no choice, really. But she didn't want to risk sending him off without cover and the UAVs taking the opportunity to finish what they started.

Wiseman wasn't about to take a risk by keeping him in. "Skald! Stabilize the craft and get out! Lanza, cover him so he can land!"

"Roger!" Lanza called out, and both aircraft withdrew from the fight.

As the final countdown began, Naomi downed a UAV that was chasing Count, and he returned the favor within a few seconds. Wiseman narrowly avoided getting hit, evading the missile and performing a high-G turn to get behind his attempted killer. With one shot, the drone became nothing more than a flaming pile of debris, falling almost as fast as it could fly. Their attacks continued, everyone covering one another and waiting for the countdown to reach zero. Just as they reached five, Lehmann immediately called out, "Halt the countdown! _Now_! We've lost the target!"

"_Gone?!_" Count scoffed. "The stupid thing is flying in the open!"

"The survey data isn't updating," one of the engineers said. "No response from our spotter. Someone went out to check on them, but…"

Lehmann sighed. "Survey vehicle down…dammit…"

McOnie stammered in disbelief for a moment, before she composed herself enough to say, "Those vehicles were Stonehenge's eyes. Without those…I'm…I'm sorry. There isn't anything more I can do."

As ready to claim defeat as everyone seemed, Lehmann took a deep breath, sounding as if he'd just gotten an idea. "Don't give up yet, Major. We still have sensors," he said optimistically. Everyone was confused for a moment, so he explained, "Our eyes. The oldest sensors in the book."

"What are you scheming?" Count asked them. They seemed to focused on their own conversation, though.

"Major?" Naomi prodded, rolling to the side to get free of a missile lock.

"They're too unreliable! But…" McOnie paused, and everyone on the ground let out their own protests against the idea. The major didn't care, though. It was a plan and it seemed she'd be taking it regardless. "Attention, all personnel! We have a change in the mission! We will now be using direct fire to shoot down the Arsenal Bird!" To the pilots, she called out, "Listen! Attack the central propellors. If you can destroy them then it will slow the Arsenal Bird down. If you wait too long, then it'll be out of range and there won't be anything else we can do. Hurry!"

"Strider 1! Cyclops 1! Pair up and attack that propellor!" Long Caster ordered them. "Everyone else, defend Stonehenge from the UAVs!"

"Wilco," Wiseman answered, pulling out of the fight with Naomi following close behind him. "Jaeger, you take the lead!"

"It's readying its APS," Long Caster warned.

"I'm going," Count suddenly declared. "The propellors are too much for Trigger alone."

"Ugh! You damn glory hound!" Húxiān yelled at him, making it clear that she wasn't in the mood for any of Count's attitude at that moment. "Just do your friggin' job!"

"Count, we need someone who can take down those UAVs," Wiseman said with a more patient, level-headed tone. "It's up to you."

"He's right, Count," Naomi answered. "We've got this under control."

Count gave a reluctant sigh. "Trigger, do not fubar this!"

"I don't plan on it," she muttered in response. After what felt like ages, she and Wiseman were finally at the altitude of the Arsenal Bird, circling around to get behind it. At that moment, it released its remaining drones to intercept them, making one almost final attempt to hold them off until it could deploy its last defenses. Wiseman engaged the UAVs, while Naomi switched to her special weapons to attack the propellors. Thankfully she'd saved them up until this point. Unfortunately the UAVs were determined to take hits for their big mama bird, many of them getting in the way of the lasers and going down. Some of them managed to break through, though. Naomi had to continue pulling up and circling back around, either to evade an incoming missile or to avoid crashing nose first into the very thing that she was attempting to destroy.

"Cyclops 3, missile incoming!" Húxiān called out to Fencer, but Naomi was too far away to see what was happening.

Fencer let out a grunt of frustration and pain. "I've been hit! I have to eject!" He had more than enough time to punch out, his plane likely beyond saving from the moment it was hit. Unlike Skald he wouldn't have had time to attempt to land. His transmission cut out, and they could just barely see his chute in the distance.

"Long Caster, send a request for rescue," Wiseman said, downing two UAVs with his own lasers. "Conditions look grim. Expect some injuries."

They continued with the attack, Wiseman taking some time out from targeting the UAVs to take out a couple of sub-propellors in hopes of slowing it down even more. After a few more hits, going back and forth between the main propellors, Naomi managed to destroy both of them. Their spinning ceased, and they slowed to a stop, smoking. Naomi moved on to the rest of the propellors just for good measure. "This is for Brownie, you worthless son of a bitch…" she said under her breath, eliminating the rest of the sub propellors and pulling away, noticing that it wouldn't be long before its shield went up in one last attempt to defend itself. Like it was struggling to catch its breath.

"That takes care of the main propellors. That thing isn't moving anywhere," Long Caster announced to them. "Good work."

"Nice job, Trigger," Wiseman said to her as they began to shoot down the remaining UAVs in hopes to buy Major McOnie some more time. The Arsenal Bird wasn't going anywhere, but its drones could still move.

Húxiān let out a sudden gasp over the radio. "Shit…" Naomi heard her curse under her breath.

"Cyclops 4 has been hit!" Long Caster called out. "Are you alright?"

There was no answer at first, and Naomi was worried that Húxiān had crashed, but no one had said anything about it. After a while, Húxiān had caught her breath and answered, "Yeah, I'm fine. We can't afford to lose any more allies. I can keep fighting."

"Knock that off!" Wiseman snapped at her. "Push yourself and you're dead. That's what we can't afford. Get back to base, Húxiān."

Naomi was at first worried that Húxiān would do the very thing Brownie had done, attempting to keep fighting with a damaged aircraft. She prayed that her new friend would have more sense than that, and after a pause to consider Wiseman's order she finally broke away from fighting alongside Count and Lanza. "Wilco, over," Húxiān answered tiredly, getting free of the remaining UAVs and leaving them to the rest of the squadron as she made her way to the formerly Erusean base that was next to the facility. Skald would be on the ground waiting for her, and it wouldn't be long before they retrieved Fencer and got him fixed up, too. She would be just fine. Naomi let out a sigh of relief.

Just as the Arsenal Bird's shield shot out in a bright purple glow that faded to an electric blue, Naomi and Wiseman pulling clear of it to avoid getting caught inside, Lehmann called out to them, "Power level is at 100%!"

"We've done our part," Naomi said with a shaky breath, her and Wiseman getting out of the way of the bird so that Stonehenge's shot wouldn't take them out with the massive drone. "Stonehenge, if you're gonna shoot, now would be the best time to do it!"

"Understood!" the major replied. "Beginning final countdown…ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…"

"Adjusting angle!" Lehmann announced as the countdown continued.

"…three…two…one…FIRE!"

Both McOnie and Lehmann cried out the final order, and at that moment the rusted old railgun let out a thunderous gunshot for a moment it looked as if the sky had been sliced in half by something as Stonehenge fired. The Arsenal Bird, disabled and unable to evade, sat right there as it was hit. The blue shield was pierced, and it dissipated from around the drone, unable to protect it any longer. Naomi was pretty sure that the deafening explosion as the shot made contact with the Arsenal Bird. It snapped in half like a tree branch in a heavy storm, letting out what Naomi would have described as a pained, metallic groan as the crippled bird fell to the ground. As it did, Stonehenge powered down, and the massive barrel of the railgun appeared to follow the Arsenal Bird down as it fell.

At last it hit the ground, and the wreckage was further ignited from the impact of hitting the ground. Another loud explosion, a burst of flame and smoke, and then every other sound was drowned out by cheers from everyone still in the fight. "Alright we did it! WOOO! HOT DAMN!" shouted the commanders of the Menhir units simultaneously, having been witness to the entire display. Like all of its drones, the Arsenal Bird had been destroyed by the Osean forces. Naomi gave a satisfied, loud cheer of her own as she and Wiseman both dived and flew over the burning wreckage of the fallen bird as if mocking it.

Count, Jaeger, and Lanza circled around nearby, all five of them rejoining one another and getting one last look at the Arsenal Bird before they turned away from it and started back towards the ruins of Stonehenge. Just as the Arsenal Bird had been destroyed, never to fly again, Stonehenge had also met its fate that day. Something that had once been an enemy to Osea and ISAF forces during the last war in Usea had been used to aid Osea in destroying the Arsenal Bird. And now it would never fire again, remaining in the Hatties Desert for the rest of time as nothing more than a relic and reminder of history.

"So…is it really over now?" Count asked hopefully, taking a deep, shaky breath. All of them were exhausted from the long morning.

"Yes! Yes it is! Reporting mission success!" McOnie said excitedly. "Lehmann, this victory belongs to you. That was a good lesson on the importance of manual control. I would have thrown in the towel had you not pulled through. That was some good thinking."

Lehmann chuckled. "I appreciate the compliment, but today's MVPs are the LRSSG!"

"I'll say," agreed Menhir 7's commander. "Especially those two lead birds. They're the Osean Big Shots."

"We can win if we follow them!" cheered a soldier from Menhir 5. "Let's hear it for the Osean Big Shots!"

"You mean the Osean Big Shot…" Count corrected them as he and Wiseman flew low around Stonehenge. He sounded too tired for any real edge to his voice, but Naomi recognized the way he was talking. It was Wiseman that he was referring to, from what she could tell. And it was clear to Naomi that he was jealous of the attention that the two of them — especially her — were getting from their allies. She recalled her lashing out at him earlier, when she'd stepped out of line and went after Cyclops' target and felt a pang of regret and sadness, but she didn't say anything to him.

Wiseman wasn't concerned about Count's sudden shift in attitude. In fact, none of them except for Naomi were bothered by it. Wiseman chuckled. "Looks like we're on the offensive now. Ha! The enemy's defensive range dropped along with that Arsenal Bird."

"That just means more pie for us," Long Caster said through a smile.

"Are we gonna eat the whole thing?" Jaeger asked, a hint of mischief and amusement in his voice.

"The brass is always hungry for more," Long Caster answered him. "They've got a bottomless appetite that rivals mine, even!" Everyone laughed at Long Caster's comment. Even Naomi forgot about Count's prickliness long enough to enjoy it. "But enough about that. You've all got a party waiting for you on the ground. Get some rest now before the counterattack."

As they all turned to head for the base, Naomi took one last look out towards the pillar of smoke in the distance. She thought about Knocker, Clown, and Boggard. And everyone else from Fort Grays that would have loved to see the Arsenal Bird go down. She wondered how they were doing, and then cursed herself for not trying to contact them. If they heard about this, they'd probably lose their shit. But they'd be proud of her for sure. Brownie would be too. Now if Naomi could just have a one-on-one match to take down Mr. X.

Only one Arsenal Bird was out of the fight, though, but that was good enough for the LRSSG. For the time being, at least. Sooner or later they'd have to face its sister in order to take back the space elevator. And Naomi would be just as ready and willing as she was today.

* * *

Author's Note: _And thus, Arsenal Bird _Liberty_ has been destroyed. RIP Big Mama Birb, you massive pain in the butt..._

_I'm going to try and have the next few chapters out as soon as possible, hopefully before school starts back for me. Unfortunately, after September 2nd I'm going to have less and less free time to write, which means I can't say for sure when updates will be. Not to worry, I'm going to be writing as much as I can, but the chapters might be coming at a slower pace and it might take longer for me to reply to reviews._

_But as always, hope you enjoyed the chapter and the next one should be out soon!_


	25. Conflict

Chapter Twenty-Four: Conflict

|…|…|…|

**Farbanti, Erusea.**  
_**August 20th, 2019.**_  
**1000hrs**

|…|…|…|

"_The Arsenal Bird_ 'Liberty'_ was destroyed by the super weapon Stonehenge late yesterday afternoon, opening up the opportunity for other Osean forces to claim more land from the Erusean military in hopes of eventually reaching and reclaiming the Space Elevator. Although we were unable to interview any of the brave, skilled pilots that took on the Arsenal Bird, footage received from one of our reporters shows that a new group of aces is on the rise. One of these aces' planes bears a set of unique markings, with one red wing resembling that of a previous ace, and three scratches on its tail. This pilot has come to be known by many names, from Three Strikes to a ghost of Solo Wing. But without the help of this mysterious pilot, the Lighthouse War wouldn't be turning in our favor as quickly—_"

OBC newscaster, Mark Richard, was abruptly cut off and the TV screen went black. Rosa flinched as General Parrish slammed the remote control onto the coffee table. Leo lifted his head from his nap, growling slightly at the source of the disturbance. The princess leaned forward, scratching behind his ears and shushing her furry companion until the golden retriever let out an irritated huff and laid his head back on his paws, keeping his eyes centered on the general as Parrish began to pace around the room with his arms crossed. Everyone watched him as he did. It wasn't much of a formal meeting. General Parrish and General Labarthe were over for breakfast with Rosa and her parents, and it just so happened that Parrish wanted to catch the ten o'clock news…on OBC.

The young general paced for several minutes, muttering under his breath. At last, after he'd rehearsed his furious monologue, he jumped right into it, "Osea is getting smug. They're overconfident and overcompensating. They know that they don't have a chance at winning this war, so they mock us by using our own weapons against us!" As he spoke, he threw his hands in the air for emphasis, but Rosa thought that it resembled a frantic plea for help from someone who was drowning. She'd always been expressive and moved a lot whenever she spoke, but she liked to think that her own movements were graceful and served a purpose instead of just…random.

Labarthe shook his head. "For God's sake, François!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "You're acting like a spoiled child that didn't get his way! Stonehenge was abandoned, and Osea rightfully took the opportunity. It's not mocking us, it's making a strategic move that we weren't able to so much as consider. And took advantage of the fact that we were foolish enough to deploy the Arsenal Bird without any cover, aside from its own, incomplete drones. If anything, I'd compliment our enemy and then use this as an opportunity to rethink our previous battle plans."

Parrish's jaw dropped and his eyes narrowed on Labarthe incredulously. "I honestly can't believe that you're justifying Osea encroaching on our territory, taking our land, reactivating a weapon that we designed, and using it for their own selfish gain!"

"This is a war, dammit!" Labarthe hissed, rising to his feet. Rosa and her father looked over at him in surprise, not used to seeing him so angry. Usually he kept his cool rather well, but it seemed that General Parrish was pushing his patience to its limit. "Osea did the same thing that we'd have done in their shoes— the same thing we've _done_ in the past. They're doing what it takes to end this war, which is more than I can say for you! Your answer to everything is a fight. Osea isn't evil, and neither are we. So stop acting like the 'bad guys' are winning and stealing from us, when you know damned well that it's not as black and white as that! While I've been working my butt off to get a meeting with Osean officials, you've been destroying all of my progress because your answer to everything is a fight. Why don't you take a moment to reevaluate things for once in your life?"

"General, are you proposing that we start trying to negotiate a peace treaty?" Rosa asked, blinking in surprise. Truth be told, she wasn't a huge fan with all of the fighting. True, Osea overstepped their boundaries, but it was her father and Parrish that believed that war was the answer. And in the last few weeks, she'd been…doubting it, quite a bit.

It was her father that answered, glaring at Labarthe. "Whether or not he's proposing it, I hope that he realizes that it's far too soon for that sort of action. Osea needs to be taught a lesson, and I fully intend to do just that." It was Rosa's turn to be shocked. He was echoing things that Parrish had said, and she didn't like hearing those words coming from her own father's mouth. She thought that he was the more reasonable, taking a neutral standpoint just as she believed she'd been doing. Parrish looked rather pleased as the King stood up. "Labarthe, keep in contact with Osea. If we_ are_ going to negotiate, then it's going to be on Erusea's terms. Parrish, I think we should continue to defend the territory that we've gained in the meantime. If Osea pushes us, then we push back harder."

"Your Majesty…" Labarthe began, glancing between his two old friends with an almost pleading look on his face. He cleared his throat and was quick to regain his previous composure. "The Lighthouse is ours. If we were to…imply that we might return it to Osean hands, provided Erusea maintains some degree of ownership, then we might be able to bring about a cease fire so we can talk more about peace."

"Not everyone is as silver-tongued as you, Édouard," Parrish reminded him with a sneer. "Erusea isn't a country of pushovers, and our King realizes this. Talking isn't the solution. As I've said many times before, we have to show Osea that we mean business. I personally believe that we should keep fighting them until we burn them all to the ground, let them see what it's like to be on the receiving end of Erusea's fury." At this, Leo had risen from his nap and let out another low grow, sensing that a full blown argument was bound to break out before long and he was making it clear that he wouldn't be happy if Rosa got involved. But Labarthe took a shaky breath and then relaxed himself.

"Fine then," he snapped, looking around the room at all three of them. His eyes settled for a moment on Rosa. "I just hope that in your attempt to prove that Erusea is not to be trifled with, you don't turn us into the same type of monsters that other countries have. Need I remind you of the horrible reputation and stereotyping that the Belkan got themselves with a mentality much like yours, François? It's been twenty years and very few will ever trust them again. Do you want that to happen to Erusea? Do you want us to lose our country and become a part of stories that parents tell their children to scare them?"

Even Rosa doubted that that would truly happen. They were nowhere near as desperate as Belka had been, and she knew that her father would reach his senses and stop the fighting before it came to that. But there was a flash of doubt across his face as Labarthe spoke. Parrish, on the other hand, scoffed at him. "You're talking nonsense, just as you always have," he replied heatedly. "Go and take your fearmongering somewhere else, General. In the meantime, I have ways that will bring about an end to the war as well as bringing Erusea centuries of glory. Not as monsters, but as pioneers."

"And I want no part in it," Labarthe seethed. "Your obsession with drones and glory will be your downfall." He took a deep, calming breath as he nodded respectfully to Rosa and her father. "I'm sorry that you had to witness this argument…but I can't pretend to agree with the methods that you've been using any longer. Do whatever you think is best for your kingdom, but don't be surprised if more people disagree with you than agree." With that, he marched off, out of the room.

Rosa's father sighed, watching him leave with a conflicted look on his face. Parrish on the other hand gave a smug smirk and crossed his arms, obviously pleased with himself. Pushing herself out of her seat, Rosa followed after him as fast as she could in her heels. "General! General, wait a moment, please!" she called out to him as she left the massive living room and stepped out into the hallway, shutting the mahogany doors behind her. The marble floors made a lot of noise whenever someone walked on them, and with the raised ceilings came a bit of an echo. If she didn't want her father and Parrish to overhear her, then she'd have to keep her voice down. "General Labarthe!"

He'd already made good distance between him, marching on with some sort of fury in every step, and at first Rosa thought that he was purposefully ignoring her. At last he stopped, turning around curiously as Rosa hurried to catch up to him, Leo jogging at her side in order to keep up. "Princess." He dipped his head forward as she drew closer, finally coming to a halt in front of him. Labarthe's surprised expression contorted into an apologetic one. "Again, I'm terribly sorry that you had to witness an argument, Your Highness. Unfortunately, it comes with the territory. Politics can be a…frustrating business. As you see, it can turn friends to enemies within a matter of seconds."

"Well, having been thrown into it at a young age I can understand completely. I've grown used to arguments, General," she said. It took her a few minutes to get her thoughts together, and they stood in awkward silence until she did. "I just…I don't think I have the stomach for this. I can tell that, with how tense things are between you and General Parrish, that there's probably been an upset within your parties recently. My father told me that the two of you never quite did get along all that well."

Labarthe sighed. "Parrish has always been overly combative when it comes to his beliefs. No matter how wrong he may be, he continues to push his ideals and overstep boundaries," he said with a shake of his head. "The first Continental War brought about a change in his behavior. He witnessed many things, and saw many people he cared about killed in action. I'm not excusing his behavior, but he began to hold very…aggressive and radical beliefs after that. In fact, I think that all the destruction he saw brought about his belief that drones were the future. Around that time was when he started furiously scribbling down drone design proposals every free moment that he had. And he's charming to some extent, and knows how to sell an idea. Many people agreed with him and his ego received more than a small boost, along with his rank."

Rosa bit her lip, wringing her hands together nervously. "I don't know what to believe…my father and General Parrish tell me one thing and then I hear another from you or a passerby on the street…I just want an end to the bloodshed," she admitted, all in one breath. "If Harling hadn't have built that elevator, then we wouldn't be in this war to begin with…everything started falling apart then."

"Maybe that _is_ the whole problem, but most likely it isn't. You wouldn't rage an entire war over something so petty, in my opinion," Labarthe said, crossing his arms. He took a deep breath, looking around. "I can't force you to believe the same way I do, and considering the title you hold it would be disrespectful of me to try. But, it seems you're starting to doubt Parrish's ways?" Rosa gave a reluctant nod, looking up at him. Labarthe took another breath. "Well, I'm not the best at giving at advice, but if you're starting to doubt something and have a change of heart then you should speak up about it. Believe me, you're a pillar of moral for many a young Erusean soldier. If you were to speak, then they'd listen. We need more of them to start thinking for themselves instead of blindly following anyways."

"I thought soldier's weren't supposed to question anything. Be it orders or the reason they're fighting," Rosa said carefully.

Labarthe chuckled darkly. "Yeah, that's what they'd like us to do. But blindly following anyone or anything can cause unnecessary bloodshed more often than not. And everyone needs a reason to fight." He paused and studied her face with a thoughtful look on his own. Furrowing his brow, he said, "I just wonder what your reason is, Princess…Now, if you'll forgive me, I really must be heading out. I have a meeting with someone very important, and hopefully they're more diplomatic than General Parrish."

"Of course, I won't hold you up any longer," Rosa said distractedly, focusing more on what Labarthe had said to her. She shook the thought away and bowed her head respectfully, Labarthe returning the gesture. "Thank you for your time. And your advice."

"It's been an honor, Your Highness." Labarthe gave her a gentle smile and gave Leo a quick pat on his head before turning around and continuing to make his way down the hallway, towards the passage that would eventually lead him to the front door. Rosa watched him go, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse the entire time, with his comment still playing in her head. What was her reason for supporting the war up until this point? She'd started out being all for it, but now it was dragging on and her father was only considering negotiations. If she didn't support it, then why did she continue saying what her father and General Parrish did, and agreeing with them on the war. If she didn't have a reason, then did the Oseans have one? Or were they simply retaliating?

Rosa glanced over her shoulder, back towards the living room door, debating whether she would go back inside and join her father. She wished that the newscaster had gone into more detail about that Three Strikes, to give her a reason to turn on the TV again. It seemed that _he_ — whoever he may be — was the face behind Osea's victories. What was _his_ reason for fighting? And how had he given an entire country hope without having ever spoken a word to the public? Rosa guessed that you'd have to be a pretty powerful person. Perhaps even a very charismatic one. Was this Three Strikes just doing his duty, the same way she was doing hers? Was it out of patriotism or did he just hate Eruseans?

She swallowed hard and looked down at her feet with a heavy sigh, trying to keep the thought out of her mind. She had other, more important things to worry about. And among them, was going to be her next speech.

* * *

**New Arrows Air Base, East of Usea.**  
_**August 21st, 2019.**_  
**0708hrs.**

Ever since Trigger and Count returned from Stonehenge, they'd been acting odd. Everyone had been acting odd. Major Wiseman had been furious with both of them, and Trigger wore a guilty look on her face. Count seemed to scowl more than usual and he was reverting to his overly aggressive ways once again. Tabloid didn't know what was wrong with them. No one had died, and the main problem seemed to be with just the three of them. OBC had showed the destruction of the Arsenal Bird from footage some reporter managed to snag during the battle. Why the Osean Army allowed a civilian to document a major battle like that and get in harm's way was a mystery to him. But overall the mission succeeded. So why were his friends so upset?

He'd tried to ask Avril, but she couldn't get Trigger to say anything, so Tabloid decided he'd ask their wingmen. When he entered the mess hall, it didn't take long to find them. Fencer and Húxiān were talking with Skald and Lanza of Strider Squadron. Jaeger and Wiseman weren't there. This made it easier on Tabloid, since he probably wouldn't get a very exact response. This way none of them were on guard with having older pilots around, one of which was their commanding officer. Skald and Fencer looked pretty beat up, and Fencer had his arm in a sling. A sprain, if Tabloid heard correctly. He'd be off duty for about a week or two until it healed, which Tabloid felt bad for being somewhat happy about. If Cyclops needed to go out, then Tabloid took up the number three position in Fencer's absence, meaning he finally got to fly with Count and Trigger again.

As happy as he was, he still felt a little bad for Fencer, being busted up and unable to fly for a little while simply because of a bumpy ride down when he ejected. Skald was good to fly still, but he had a busted lip from a rocky landing. Húxiān, having also been forced to withdraw from the battle according to them, managed to escape without any injuries somehow. But obviously they hadn't gone without losing some planes, and Avril hadn't been too happy about working with Bandog to fix up Skald and Húxiān's planes. She said something about just scrapping them and contacting the General Staff Office about it, but she grudgingly got to work on it by the time Tabloid left the hangar.

The four of them were talking about something, and it must of been funny since all of them were grinning or laughing to some extent. Tabloid quickly put on a grin to mask the concern he was facing, waving to them as he approached the table. "Hey, guys," he said as he reached them, and they all recovered from their laughing, still smiling. He gestured to the empty seat at the table. "Do you, umm — mind if I join you?"

"Not at all. Go ahead," Skald said, nodding to the seat. Tabloid gave them a grateful look and took a seat, the four exchanging an amused look before turning their attention back to him. Skald spoke up again, "So, Peter, what's happening with you?"

"Nothing much, really." Tabloid shrugged, slowly growing used to hearing his real name again. He didn't mind his first name as much as he did his last, since it was Belkan in origin. He hadn't said anything to anyone about it, but Trigger's father seemed a little suspicious when he'd found out about it. Solo Wing Pixy could be intimidating, and even though he'd proven himself to be a decent pretty decent guy after punching Commander McKinsey, Tabloid was still a little uncertain about him. He did feel some guilt for not having stuck up for Trigger when they found out that her dad was Belkan, but seeing how badly Spare had reacted to her after that he figured it was best to keep it under wraps for the time being. And everyone had been none the wiser. But he wasn't going to worry about that right now. "I'm just curious about why Wiseman seems so pissed with Count and Trigger"

They all exchanged another look, but this one wasn't of amusement so much as it was of discomfort and mild annoyance. Fencer finally gave him an answer, "Well, we split up to engage two different units. Strider took an enemy rocket unit and Cyclops got to take care of some helicopters. Captain Foulke ditched Strider Squadron in the middle of the fight to swoop in and 'help' Cyclops. I swear, O'Connor — er, your friend Count, I mean — practically lost his shit. The two of them yelled at each other, and Foulke decided to try and pull rank on him. Wiseman stepped in and he's been irritable with everyone since then. In fact, I think Foulke's getting chewed out right now. I think Wiseman wanted to wait until Commander Hawkins could get involved before he reprimanded her."

Tabloid furrowed his brow, finding the story a bit hard to believe. He knew that Trigger's methods were unorthodox at times, and Count could be pretty reckless, but Trigger had never abandoned her squadron before. Even in Spare Squadron it had always been him, Count, and Trigger. She didn't run from a fight and she didn't leave anyone behind. But to learn that Count was actually following the rules was pretty surprising too. "That doesn't sound like them," he said, looking around the table. "Something else has to be going on with them."

"Yeah," Húxiān scoffed in agreement. "Count's a glory hound and Trigger doesn't know anything about leading a real squadron." Fencer and Skald nodded in agreement, Fencer giving a derisive laugh at the comment about Count. Tabloid would be lying if he said he wasn't a little upset about their reactions, but he'd wanted an honest answer.

Lanza raised an eyebrow at Húxiān, though. "Weren't you the one who claimed you had some sort of life debt to Trigger after she went up against Mr. X in Yinshi Valley, Húxiān?"

"I _do_ owe her. But that doesn't mean that I worship her or something," Húxiān replied quickly and with a slight edge to her voice. "Trigger's a great pilot, her mind's probably just been warped from spending time in prison. Same with Count, if we're being entirely honest here. To survive a harsh environment, you have to become just as harsh if not worse just to make it through the day. It does something to you, and it takes years to get out of that kind of mindset. And even after that, you'll never fully recover from it. Believe me, I know as well as anyone what that's like."

"Don't we all?" Skald asked with a heavy sigh. Tabloid looked around, surprised that they seemed to have some understanding for what it was like to be a product of the environment you were raised in. He didn't have a bad life, but he'd seen enough to know that borders were pointless in his eyes. All they were was a line on a map dividing land from other land. Why start wars over something so ridiculously petty that, in the grand scheme of things, didn't really matter? And here they were, seeming to all come from some sort of rough background.

But what they said brought something to Tabloid's attention. And he was going to be having a talk with Count. Thanking them for the time, only momentarily debating apologizing for killing the mood, Tabloid left the mess hall and made his way outside and to the barracks, where he knew Count would be, just skulking around and pouting. Count was a complete and total ass half the time, but Tabloid knew that when it all came down to it, Count was one of the most loyal people that he knew. Unfortunately, he was incredibly selective about who received that loyalty. And it seemed that Wiseman and Trigger weren't making the cut for him, apparently. Maybe if they talked, then he could figured out what the root of the problem was and help him. In fact, he had a feeling that he already knew what the root of the problem was.

When he reached the barracks, he stepped inside and quickly turned down the hallway that led to his and Count's quarters. Since it was his room too, he didn't bother knocking before opening the door and stepping inside. Sure enough, Count was there, sitting on their bunk and going through his duffle bag. He barely even glanced Tabloid's way, scowling at the interruption and the fact that his alone time was over. Tabloid stared at him for a few minutes, trying to find out how to start the conversation, and he figured he'd try the direct approach. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Count paused, blinking in surprise before he turned to look at Tabloid. "Excuse me?" he asked, his surprise fading and scowl returning.

"I found out why you've been so grouchy ever since you got back from Stonehenge. What's got into you? And Trigger?" Tabloid asked, throwing his hands in the air and letting them just fall to his side as he stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him. "I thought you two would be happy to be a part of a regular squadron. I mean, come on, Count! Wiseman's trusting you with covering his wing in a fight and you act like an ungrateful little child just because you wanted the lead. At least they actually let you fly, instead of grounding you for 'additional training' or some bullshit like that."

He let out a bitter laugh that surprised Tabloid, and Count rose to his feet, shoving his bag aside. "And why do you think that is, Tabloid?" Count asked him with a smirk. "Why do you think you're stuck on the ground? Why do you think I'm stuck being babysat by Wiseman? And why do you think that Trigger gets all the trust and admiration, huh?" Tabloid was going to answer him, but when he opened his mouth, he couldn't come up with a good response. That was all that Count needed, apparently. "Exactly. Hehe…damn, Tabloid. You were easily the smartest guy back at Zapland and here you are acting like everything is perfectly fine. Full Band was right. You really _are_ naive!"

Tabloid frowned, his patience wearing thin. "Well you seem to know everything, so why don't you enlighten me O' Wise One?"

"Real funny." Count scoffed. He sighed, seeming to have already thought through his response. "Surely you've realized that they don't actually want _us_ here? It's always been _Trigger_ that they wanted. _She's_ the prodigy, _she's_ the one who fought Mr. X, and _she's_ the one that they trust. Well, _did_ trust. After that stupid stunt she pulled, I doubt they'll think too highly of her anymore." He shook his head with an irritated snort and crossed his arms. "But you and I? They only took us in because they knew Trigger would want us here. And maybe Avril actually is of some use to them. But we're nothing more than a couple of ex-cons that everyone views as the 'problems' the ones that they need to 'fix'. I mean, look at us! An anarchist and a fraud. Why should anyone take us seriously or give us any responsibility?"

"So your problem is that you're jealous of everyone trusting Trigger and not you? You're upset because no one takes you seriously?" Tabloid asked incredulously, finding it a little hard to believe that jealousy was his only problem. "That's it? _That's_ your problem?"

"My problem is everyone treating me like I'm incompetent!" Count snapped in response. "Trigger, Wiseman, Fencer, Húxiān, literally everyone else on the base! I worked my ass off to become a pilot, then I got thrown in prison. I thought maybe, just maybe Wiseman wasn't such a bad guy for giving me a shot in a regular squadron, but then he turns around and starts acting like I'm a goddamn child that he has to keep an eye on. And Trigger, too! They put her in charge of a squadron, give her a promotion, and suddenly she thinks that she's better than me. And don't act like you aren't jealous, too. Trigger and even Avril getting all the credit while you're stuck in the shadows?"

"Avril has nothing to do with this," Tabloid replied, scowling. He took a deep breath. "Maybe I am a little jealous, but you know what? Wiseman gave you a second chance when no one else would. He gave me one too. All of us! And you've been nothing but a pain in the ass ever since then! You think you feel left out and unwanted? _I'm_ not even allowed to fly! I'm stuck in reserves while my friends get to go off kicking ass. But I'm not complaining because I know that Wiseman didn't have to even offer that, but he did because regardless. Same with you!" Tabloid clenched his fist, and he could see Count tense with every word, not liking the topic of the conversation. But Tabloid was almost done. "You want to stop being treated like a child? Then stop acting like one! Get your shit together, suck it up, and prove to them that you're just as capable as Trigger. And if you don't want to do that? Then shut up and stop complaining because I don't want to hear it!"

"That's easy for you to say, Tabloid. You've been practically smitten with Trigger ever since she showed up," Count said with yet another scoff.

Tabloid rolled his eyes. "Yeah, as if you haven't," he retorted, and Count gave him a look that could kill. Tabloid ignored it. "Get your head out of your ass, Count. Trigger's my_ friend_. And she's yours too. So why don't you quit pretending to hate her? You ever consider that maybe she's just as stressed as you? She started out at the bottom of the pack and now suddenly she's leading a squadron. She might be in a position that she doesn't want just as much as you are. You know, maybe you two have more in common than either one of you want to admit. Why don't you think about that, huh?"

And with that, Tabloid turned around and opened the door, being sure to slam it behind him. He took a deep breath, calming himself down. That was the first time he could recall ever getting into an actual fight with Count. Sure, they disagreed a lot but they'd never actually raised their voices at one another. But if Count couldn't get his shit together after having a nice reality check, then he was probably hopeless. Tabloid wasn't too worried, though. Count just needed a good push every now and then. And sometimes you had no choice but to give your stubborn, asshole friends a nice, good shove once in a while and then leave him to figure things out for himself.

* * *

**0740hrs.**

Naomi shrunk back in her seat, well aware of how much trouble she was in. She felt like she was a kid sitting in the principle's office, only this time it was a little more serious than that. Her father was standing in the corner of the office with a blank expression. Jaeger sat beside her, although he wasn't in trouble. Long Caster and Commander Hawkins stood nearby at either end of Wiseman's desk. And sitting across from her was Wiseman, with several papers thrown onto his desk. Likely the reports that everyone had given him. But until they were ready to start yelling at her again, Naomi was taking a good look around and hoping to avoid any eye contact if she could.

Aside from the messy desk (which was understandable), Wiseman's office was rather neat and tidy. The filing cabinet even looked like it had been polished and the floors didn't have a speck on them. Every photo of his squadron that he had on the wall hung straight and were dusted. Naomi wondered if he had some sort of weird, OCD thing going on but she doubted it. Everyone that she'd met in the military seemed to have some need for things to be neat and a desire for order. At least, the commanders she'd had. Exceptions included McKinsey and Clown, but one of them just didn't care and the other one had better things to do than worry about whether or not his desk was tidy. But who was Naomi to judge. Even she liked organization to some extent.

She decided to observe the photos on the wall, although she didn't have a very good view from where she was. And her father was blocking some of them as he looked them over himself, eyeing her every so often. To say that he'd been disappointed when he heard about what had happened was an understatement. Naomi let out a sigh, turning back around to face Wiseman when her father gave her a stern look and nodded to her commanding officer. Jaeger and Long Caster offered her a mildly sympathetic look, perhaps the only ones that she was going to receive from anyone in the room. She wasn't complaining. She'd take whatever she could get. At least someone wasn't mad at her.

At last, Wiseman sighed and looked up at her. "You've put me in a difficult position, Trigger," he said to her, breaking the silence and bringing every eye in the room onto him. "Just because you're in command of Strider Squadron, that doesn't give you permission to attempt bossing around Cyclops. They're under _my_ command, as are you, and I honestly expected much more from you than this, Trigger. From what Jaeger tells me, you're fine on the ground with everyone but in the air you act like you just don't care. And honestly, I've seen it myself. We all have."

"If you put so much faith in me, then why do you have Jaeger out there babysitting me for you?" Naomi asked, glaring at Jaeger. She didn't have a problem with him, nor did she mind having him in the squadron. But it was about time she said something. "I want to prove to you that I can lead Strider Squadron, but I didn't even get to choose who was flying with me. You just through me into the squadron, with Jaeger being the only one that actually trusted me and my capabilities. And then I have Lanza and Skald doubting me, too. I don't know these people, it's impossible for me to 'click' with them, I don't understand them...How can I work with people who can't or won't work with me?"

Wiseman nervously looked around the room, shaking his head. The other men all shared the same, concerned look, but it was Jaeger that spoke up. "I told you that would be a problem, Wiseman," he said, but there wasn't a mocking, 'I told you so' tone in his voice like one would expect. In fact, if anything it was more of irritation that no one listened to him in the first place. Wiseman didn't respond, so Jaeger continued, looking to Naomi, "I know Wiseman explained why everyone is so cautious with you and Count. And I know that he told you how some of us came from a less than ideal background. But you and Count are two of the most stubborn pilots we've had by far. _You_ don't want to work with us, not the other way around."

Naomi blinked in surprise at how stern Jaeger was being with her. But Wiseman didn't plan on giving her a chance to argue. "What I said about Count applies to you as well," he explained to her. "If you don't want to adapt to the change and figure out how to work with them, then there isn't anything I can do for you. Your friends are all adjusting fine. I don't understand why you can't."

"Sir, I'd say I've adapted just fine all things considered," Naomi said. They all looked at her, and she adopted a more serious tone and expression. "I've watched friends _die_, I was pulled away from the ones I had left, I was thrown in prison for something I'm about 99% sure wasn't my fault, I was treated like shit by my own country and it's overall worthless government, and then suddenly you swoop in ready to save the day and take me under your wing and I'm supposed to forget everything that happened and be fine? To just blindly trust you without any good reason?"

"This is a war," Long Caster reminded her in a surprisingly calm manner. As if he wasn't just as surprised or irked as Wiseman and Colonel Hawkins were. "We've all lost people we care about and we've all faced our fair amount of trials. And we trusted you, even though we didn't have to."

"Oh, well I'm so sorry. I wasn't aware that made it all better," Naomi said snidely with an annoyed huff. "And thank you for trusting me with your great squadron and separating me from two of the only people I actually could trust to follow me and not talk back. What an honor—"

"Alright, that's enough!" Wiseman snapped at her, slamming his fist down which made her lose the snark and jump in her seat. He stood up so that he towered over her and raised his voice. "I've tried to be patient with you, but you better listen good right now. If you think that you're the only one that lost someone in this war so far then you better just go ahead and get over yourself. You're stubborn, disrespectful, and selfish and I'm tired of trying to be nice with you if the only thing you're going to understand is someone yelling at you. You're barred from flying until further notice. You say another word and I'll send your ass back to Osea with another court martial hanging over your head. Now keep your mouth shut and get the hell out of my office, _NOW_!"

Everyone was surprised by Wiseman's drastic change in demeanor, and Naomi felt guilt weighing down on her as she stood up, pushing back her own shock. It was replaced by anger as she spun around and marched towards the door. Her father sighed in disappointment, following her out the door and into the hallway, managing to slip through and close the door before she had the opportunity to slam it in his face. They walked along in silence as Naomi started to make her way back to her quarters. Once they were a good ways down the hall and away from Wiseman's office, Naomi finally said, "If you're going to try lecturing me then could you save it for later? I'm not really in the mood."

Her father shrugged. "I was just going to point out how badly you've been screwing up, but I'd say Wiseman did that well enough."

"Thank you." Naomi said flatly, rolling her eyes. "Did you ever get along this badly with your squadron?"

"I mean, it was just me and my buddy during the war, so I'd say we did alright," he answered, again shrugging. "Well…I mean, except for the whole deserting fiasco, but you already knew about that." Naomi nodded, not really wanted to say anything. Thankfully she didn't have to and her father continued talking, if only for her sake and to fill any awkward silence. "You know, they've got a point though. Before I was hired by Ustio and assigned to Galm Team, I never made a real friendship with any of the people I flew with before. And that was because I made a conscious decision not to. I didn't want anything slowing me down. I was there to fly and make enough money to live off of. And then Cipher — the annoying bastard he is — wouldn't leave me alone unless I actually spent some time socializing with other people and stopped acting like a prickly ass all the time."

Naomi raised an eyebrow, chuckling slightly. "_You_? _Annoying_? Why, I've never heard of such a thing..." she teased her father half-heartedly, cheering up just enough to actually maintain a smile.

He smirked and gave her a gentle smack on the back of the head. "You better watch it, young lady, or I'll send you to your room until dinnertime." The awkward laughter that they both let out quickly died off before her father let out a sigh. "But, seriously, Naomi. Wiseman only wants what's best for his squadron, and that means what's best for everyone involved. You've got to trust someone before long. You keep flying on nothing but emotions and keep up this 'I can't trust anyone' act and you're going to get yourself killed." Naomi didn't reply. "Look, I can't force you. But I don't want you to get hurt. Could you just try instead of giving up so easily?"

She stopped and looked at him, studying him for a moment as she considered what he said. His look was almost pleading, and she felt bad for the way she'd acted knowing that he taught her better than that. "I'll try…" Naomi muttered, shoving her hands into her pockets and continuing on her way. Her father didn't follow her, and she didn't really want him to that much anyways. It would have been nice to have someone to talk to, but she just didn't feel up to it.

* * *

**Farbanti, Erusea.**  
_**August 30th, 2019.**_  
**2100hrs.**

Rosa miserably slouched onto the couch as she returned from a walk she had intended to calm her nerves. She'd had a speech just hours before, and she expressed her doubts about the war and encouraged the citizens of Erusea to rethink their hostility towards Osea and understand that they weren't responsible for the construction of the Space Elevator. She'd simply said what she believed now. That Osea couldn't be held completely accountable for Harling's actions and that the former president had already paid for it with his life at the hands of one of his own soldiers, flying at the elevator in a pointless attempt to try and destroy it. That was the story she'd been told when word of Harling's death had reached the King and his family, anyways. Rosa wasn't entirely sure that it made sense, but it made enough for her to accept it until she heard a better explanation.

After the speech had ended, the look on her father and on General Parrish's faces were ones of surprise and anger, and the mixed cries of outrage and doubt from the crowd made it hard for her to hear what they had been saying to one another as Henri led them all away and to the car. Her father and Parrish had marched right down the hall to the King's study and Rosa had watched them go, treating her as if she wasn't even there. Her mother asked what had happened and when Rosa explained the situation, it seemed that all the color had drained from her mother's face for just a moment. She had looked over her shoulder before sending Rosa and Leo out on a walk around the grounds, offering to make her some tea for when she got back. Her mother always preferred that they do things themselves instead of being waited on, and the thought of a fresh, homemade cup of tea had been enough to relax her to some extent.

But after a short, five minute walk outside with only her dog for company, Rosa felt no better than she had when they'd returned home. A soft knock at the living room entrance made Rosa jump slightly, and she looked over her shoulder to see Henri holding a saucer with a steaming teacup on it. She gave a small, grateful and tired smile and sat up in her seat. The family's loyal bodyguard entered the room, setting the intricately painted cup and saucer on the table in front of the couch. He let out a satisfied _mmm-hmm_, running a hand through his slicked back, slightly graying hair. "Before you tell me that I didn't need to bring you the tea, your mother went to speak with your father," Henri offered an unnecessary explanation as he turned towards her, "and all of the maids had left for the day. Ergo, there wasn't anyone else available since your family refuses to hire a proper butler."

"_Merci_, Henri. You don't need to explain yourself," Rosa said to him with a respectful nod, leaning towards the cup and taking a deep breath. The smell of mint, lemon, and lavender told Rosa that it was her mother's 'special' tea. Really it was just mint and lavender tea mixed together with a lemon or two squeezed over it to add to some of the flavor. Either way, it tasted amazing and was the perfect way to relax. Rosa sat back again, waiting for it to cool off a bit more before she took a sip from it. She eyed Henri, who was busying himself with the tasks the maids or her mother would have done with more time. The silk curtains they had were closed, with Henri singing a popular song in Erusean under his breath while he worked, suddenly oblivious to her presence.

She could never tell what his opinions on the war were. In fact, he never seemed to care much for it, simply doing his duty and escorting Rosa and her family wherever they needed to go, always looking ready to take a bullet for any of them should the situation require it. But there was no doubt that he was getting older, and he'd seen several wars in his time without a doubt. She wondered if he'd ever served in the military, but she'd never had the thought to ask him. But perhaps today it might be nice to get another opinion from someone that wasn't quite so often considered. After how badly the day had ended, it couldn't possibly get much worse. Rosa picked up her teacup and took a sip of the warm beverage, nervously tapping her index finger on the ceramic as she thought of the best way to ask her question.

However, Henri became aware of the sound and the tell that she was thinking about something and — as he let the last of their curtains fall into place over the patio door — stopped his singing to declare to her, "I can tell that something is on your mind, Your Highness. You've had no trouble speaking your mind today, so why don't you just get out with it, child?" Although it would have been considered disrespectful to speak to royalty that way, Henri had known her since she actually was a child. Of course, she wasn't so sure that she couldn't be compared to one even now. And in spite of the seemingly harsh choice in words, Henri seemed to have an almost amused tone, and there wasn't any hostility in his eyes when he finally turned around to face her. But she didn't answer right away, and bit her lip as she met his gaze. There was a faint trace of concern in his voice as he prompted, "Princess? I didn't mean to offend—"

Rosa was quick to cut him off, "No, no, Henri, it isn't that! It's…I just have a question for you, if you wouldn't mind answering it. I'm sure it's probably more of a controversial topic than I previously believed…"

Henri raised an eyebrow curiously, checked the time on his smartphone before he silenced it and stuffed it in his pocket, then he made his way over to the couch and took a seat beside her. Leo padded over to the two of them, sniffing Henri curiously before he sat between the two of them on the floor and rested his head on Rosa's lap. Henri chuckled at the golden retriever. "Well, we're both listening if you need to get something off your mind. I can't say how well Leo is at advice giving and question answering, but I'm more than happy to lend an ear, Princess. Just take your time."

"You don't have to, really. It might take a little while, and I don't want to keep you from your family," Rosa said sheepishly. Truth be told, as much as she considered Henri to sort of be a part of their family, she never knew much about his real family and he made it a point to keep his personal life and business separate. Whether or not he actually had a real family, she didn't know. He never brought up a wife or any kids to them

"They'll be fine," Henri said with a shrug. "I told the missus I'd be home a little later tonight anyways. I still have to check the perimeter and brief the other guards before I can take off for the night, and that can wait a little longer." He gave her a reassuring smile, which Rosa returned, but they fell into a silence as Rosa once again began conflicting with herself about saying anything to Henri. In this time, Henri tried to fill the awkward silence with a light-hearted comment, "I remember when you were a carefree little girl visiting this palace for the first time when your relatives assumed the thrown. Long before you had all this responsibility and stress to deal with. You must miss how things were before the war. Even before your father became the King of Erusea."

She looked over at him as she took another sip of tea, then nodded slowly as she swallowed and lowered the cup back to the saucer. "Yes, I do actually. Don't get me wrong, my family has been incredibly blessed to go from having little in the world to ruling an entire kingdom…but, it would be nice to not worry about responsibility so much. To pursue my own interests instead of…"

"…Going in front of massive audiences and saying everything your father and General Parrish tell you to?" Henri finished for her, although he was mostly just asking if that was what she meant. It was. Rosa nodded slowly and hesitantly. Henri took a deep breath. "Well, then. Maybe you should be talking with your father about this instead of me. After all, it's his war that he's thrown onto your shoulders. If you're having doubts, then you have the right to voice them. And I'm fairly certain that if you wanted to take some time away from the capital then he'd allow it. Believe me, when I was eighteen I didn't want anything to do with politics. I packed up my things and travelled the world with the money that was _supposed_ to go to college. I realized after I grew up a little that I could benefit from an education and worked hard after that, but you can only learn so much if you're confined to the same place your whole life."

Rosa sighed. "Yes, I'm starting to realize this. My entire life…I've…I don't think I've ever left Erusea," she said, the realization settling in. "Unless you count a visit or two to Selatapura recently." Selatapura was the closest that she'd ever been to leaving her own country, seeing that it was an independent city with little ties to Erusea. She'd never seen the rest of the Usean continent, she'd never travelled to any other countries across the globe. She'd had pictures framed in her bedroom of the city of Gracemeria in Emmeria, of their great 'Golden King' and the King's Bridge. Other pictures that she'd printed and framed were of Dinsmark, Belka's capital. And of Chopinburg Rainforest. But none of these places she'd ever been herself. She'd always been watching through someone else's eyes, never realizing how much she wanted to visit them until now. She let out another sigh, finishing off her tea and setting the empty cup down. "I never asked to become the Princess. Or General Parrish's spokesperson."

"And you should get the choice. Your father isn't being fair on you, if you ask me. To accuse you of betraying your own family simply because you had a change of heart about the war is absurd." Henri must have realized what he'd said, and gave a nervous smile when her blue eyes widened in shock and turned on him. He didn't reply right away. At last, after looking around to make sure that no one was listening in, he continued, "I'm sorry, I said too much. It's just that…I overheard Parrish and your father speaking. They think that Labarthe is possibly a traitor to Erusea, since he was never fully behind the war, especially when he learned of the drone development and usage. And now they think that he's gotten to you and brainwashed you into thinking like him or something ridiculous like that. The General's words, not your father's, although he did agree with them to some extent."

"Oh." Rosa looked down at her hands for a moment, processing the information for herself. So now, after she'd taken a risk in speaking her mind, her father believed her to be disloyal to Erusea. But that was absurd. She loved her home, which is why she wanted the war to come to an end. Erusea was losing territory, and the drones that they were relying on to defend it were dropping at a rapid pace. How much more would they be able to take before Osea made it to their home? Before they launched an actually successful attack on Farbanti and drove the Eruseans from their own territory? And all because of a pointless structure that a foolish man chose to construct on soil that wasn't their own. Rosa placed one head on Leo, running her hands through his thick fur in hopes to keep her thoughts together. "And what do you think of this war, Henri?"

Henri only shrugged, pushing himself up from the couch and straightening out his suit. "I really shouldn't say, Princess. I support whatever decision the King decides, provided that it truly is his decision and not simply parroting another person's ideals."

She looked up at him and studied his face. "I'd like an honest answer to this last question, Henri," Rosa said as firmly and with as much authority as she could muster at the moment. "Do you believe that my family has been misguided in this war?"

He gave her a gentle smile. "I observe and listen and remember more than I probably should. But when your job is protecting someone no matter what and from anyone, then you stay vigilant and aware of any possible threats." Henri glanced at the doorway as if he was expecting someone to be standing there, then his eyes flitted back to Rosa. "Trust me. Most politicians, if not all, are corrupt to some extent. And sometimes it's other politicians that helped them get that way. I know a certain retired General that does a good job of masking the fact that he's only in this game for his own personal reasons. Just keep an eye out, Princess. With the way things are going, and Osea having this new ace…unless Erusea starts putting up a real fight and relying less on their drones, we aren't going to have much of a chance and it's going to take years to recover from a loss at this scale." He took a look at his watch and then nodded to her. "I should get going, Princess. Goodnight. And, erm…good luck."

"Goodnight, Henri," Rosa called after him, watching as he made a swift exit and turned down the hallway to make for the front door. She waited a few minutes before she got up and shut and locked the living room doors, sitting back on the couch after she cut off the lights. Grabbing the TV remote and turning it on, it automatically displayed the news. The Erusean News Network, this time as opposed to OBC. To her surprise, she saw her own face appear on the screen. It was an older broadcast, from a few months before. With a heavy sigh, leaning her head onto her hand, she finally got to see how naive she'd truly been all this time. She hated every word that came out of her own mouth. Because they weren't really hers. She'd been a puppet this whole time, and she wanted it to stop.

* * *

_**September 1st, 2019.**_  
**1500hrs.**

Several days had passed and Naomi hadn't been allowed anywhere near a plane in that time. Truth be told she was starting to feel the effects of it, so used to flying and not even being allowed near a plane. Everyone else, on the other hand, was allowed to go up and fly for practice, leaving her on the ground with nothing to do. In fact, she was pretty sure that Wiseman was scheduling extra training just to rub it in her face, which she would admit that she deserved. Bored and stressed, she spent most of her time in her quarters, by herself and away from the others. Her own makeshift solitary to sort out her problems for herself except it was air conditioned and she was allowed to eat. And she'd had a lot of time to think, too, so it wasn't so bad.

After these days went by, she was surprised when everyone was called into a briefing. Naomi was the last to hear about and the last to arrive from the looks of things. When she entered the room, everyone was sitting in their usual place. All of the pilots were relaxing in their seats, Strider Squadron beside Cyclops in the front. When the door closed behind her, they all looked over their shoulders at her before muttering something to themselves. Her own squadron put on sympathetic expressions as she took a seat beside them, but she ignored in and kept her gaze straight ahead at the screen. She caught Wiseman's eye, and the two stared each other down as the screen lit up. As always, it displayed the Usean continent. Big surprise. She was actually starting to hate this place. With a passion.

Hawkins cleared his throat and began the briefing. "Well, now that we're all here I guess it's about time we get started on the briefing," he began. "Er…okay. Here goes. The destruction of one of their Arsenal Birds has significantly reduced the scale of Erusea's air defense network. Osean forces have moved into the areas where we gained air superiority and freed over half of the Usean continent." Whereas most of the screen continent used to display red to show the Erusean's possession of it, most of the continent was now blue and the Erusean territory was now almost confined to their own country. Naomi was impressed. It seemed that Erusea wasn't quite so fierce without one of their precious, stolen Arsenal Birds.

Long Caster continued for him, and the screen centered on a mountain range deep in eastern Erusea, "However, Erusea is feeling the pressure and is reacting by attempting to activate the ballistic missile base in the suburbs of Sierraplata. For the past seventy two hours, they've put their resources and people into action. And have already entered the final stages of a launch." The screen zoomed once again into one of the launch sites, displaying a white, 3D image of the IRBM. Everyone let out a surprised breath or impressed whistles at the sight, all of them well aware of the destruction it could cause if it were to reach its target. Long Caster nodded to it. "Take a good look at it. The missile silo is deep underground. To destroy it, we'll need a bomber to drop a huge deep-penetration bomb in a precise place. Unfortunately, the airspace is thick with clouds at the moment, so it'll be difficult for a bomber to hit the target accurately."

Wiseman took over, tapping the screen and allowing it to show how thick the cloud cover was over the mountain range. He turned back to look them all over. "Normally, we'd have to wait for the weather to clear, but with the situation being what it is, we don't have that option. So, _we_ will have be the bomber's eyes and find the missile silo. You'll all be equipped with targeting pods instead of special weapons." He tapped the screen again and it displayed a small blue arrowhead to represent a plane, bobbing along as it made its way towards the silo. "We need you to fly at low altitude, visually identify which silo they're activating, then acquire it with your targeting pod." The little 3D arrowhead found its target, circling around it as the larger arrowhead that represented the bomber closed in on the position. "Once you press the firing switch, the bombers will drop their payload based on the location data provided by the targeting pod. You will need to keep the silo in the center of your sight until the bomb hits its target, or else it will miss entirely."

The company commander paused, narrowing his eyes on the pilots sitting in front of him. Naomi gulped but returned the stare as his gaze lingered on her for a moment. He kept his expression blank, and Naomi actually would have called his posture smug as he wrapped up the briefing. "It takes a high level of airmanship to properly guide these bombs to their targets while flying a plane. Naturally, we assume the enemy has positioned anti-air artillery and aircraft in the area of operations, so stay alert." The LRSSG emblem now was displayed over the map of their AO and beside it was Cyclops and Strider's emblems, side by side with a list of the current roster underneath them in tiny lettering. "Additionally, we suffered human and material losses in the last battle, so Cyclops Squadron will sit this one out." As Wiseman said this, Cyclops Squadron's emblem darkened from blue and gold to grayscale with the words 'Not Sortie' displayed next to it. Wiseman crossed his arms and his cool stare returned to Naomi. It still surprised her when he called out her name, "Trigger, it's up to you to make this work with _just_ Strider Squadron. You leave first thing tomorrow morning, so I'd suggest everyone go and get ready. Good luck out there, everyone."

Naomi just stared at the screen as the shock settled in. Eventually it changed to panic, but she kept that hidden from those around her as the screen cut out and the windows were opened. The others all dispersed, but she stood up and got a closer look at the screen. By now it displayed Strider Squadron's roster for the mission, lining up their ID photos with their TAC names and real names side by side underneath the Strider and LRSSG emblems. Naomi narrowed her eyes on the person placed in the number two position, and she wasn't sure if she felt relief, surprise, or annoyance. She looked over at Wiseman, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Major, is there a reason why Count has been reassigned as Strider 2? Is Skald doing alright?"

By now, Long Caster and Commander Hawkins had stepped out in the hallway to actually inform Skald of this apparent change. Count, upon hearing his name, stopped and turned around, making his way back across the room to stand beside Naomi and wear a matching look of confusion. They both exchanged a look before turning back to Wiseman. He looked up at them and smiled at them. "Skald's doing fine," he said with a shrug. "Aside from that busted lip, which looks pretty painful if I'm honest, but doesn't keep him from flying. What keeps him from flying is the fact that he trashed his plane taking a missile for you. Until the Scrap Queen can fix it up properly, I don't know how he's going to be flying. But Count's not injured and his plane works just fine, so I figured that I'd go for it."

"So you just rearrange my squadron without talking to me about it first?" Naomi asked him in a level tone, crossing her arms.

"Actually, until you prove yourself as a capable leader, it isn't your squadron," Wiseman replied with just as level a tone, although it was clear that the comment hadn't sat well with him. "And tomorrow is when you both prove to me that I didn't make a mistake."

Count let out an irritated huff. "What do I have to do with any of this? _Trigger's_ the one that screwed up."

Naomi opened her mouth to object, and he readied himself to counter whatever argument she had, but Wiseman quickly shut them both up, "Hey! _Knock it off!_" Their jaws snapped shut at the same time and they turned their attention back to Wiseman as he glared at them, making sure that they were actually keeping quiet before he wasted his breath. "That right there is the exact reason why you have something to do with this, Count. Both of you lack trust and proper teamwork. If you want me to stop treating you like children, then the two of you better get your asses out there and give me a damn good reason to respect your capabilities fully. Tomorrow, you're partners. You work as a team and you watch each others backs. I've already spoken with Jaeger about this and he's going to sit back and let Trigger call the shots and figure out how to lead without any help. Count, you better make sure that she makes it back. Trigger, the same goes for you. Only you're responsibility extends to everyone. Understand me?"

The two sighed and glanced at the other, their expressions softening slightly. "Yes sir," they said at the same time.

"Good," Wiseman said with a firm nod. "Dismissed. You've both got a mission to prep for."

Together, they turned away and started out of the room without a word. Naomi remembered lashing out at him over Stonehenge once again and felt a pang of guilt. Once they were clear of their COs and outside, on their way to the hangars, she tried to find something to say to him. "Count…" she began, but he didn't let her finish.

"Save it, _Captain_," he sneered at her. _Alright, I deserved that_, she thought, looking away from him and wincing as if he'd just hit her. For some reason, it felt like he did and she wanted more than anything to apologize to him, but Count wasn't interested in listening. And he made that quite clear as they kept walking. "For the record, I'm not happy about this. So let's just get this over and done with so I don't have to answer to you anymore."

Naomi looked at him, opening her mouth to say something, but she closed it without a word and looked down at her feet. She didn't want to get on his bad side anymore than she already was, so if keeping her mouth shut for the time being was what it took to get back on his good side then that's what she'd do. Not that she was happy about it. To be fair, she probably deserved the lack of respect from him. From all of them, actually. And she fully intended to prove to Wiseman that she could lead properly, and hopefully make it up to Count somehow.


	26. The Calm Before

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Calm Before

|…|…|…|

**Sierraplata, Erusea.**  
_**September 2nd, 2019.**_  
**1012hrs.**

|…|…|…|

The flight to the mountain range that morning had been quiet to the point that it actually frustrated Naomi. She didn't like the quiet and yet none of her wingmen seemed interested in a conversation, at least not with her. Count had been upset ever since the briefing the day before and had been unusually quiet, Lanza seemed bored without Skald to talk to, and Jaeger seemed content not to say anything to any of them. The only good thing to come from the quiet, in Naomi's opinion, was that it gave her time to think about their strategy and who she might have doing what. Unfortunately, she wasn't allowed to bring her shiny new pulse lasers along on the mission, which is why Avril had made some adjustments to allow them to carry more missiles than they normally would be able to. All of that was perfectly fine, but the pulse lasers were a lot more fun to use and did more destruction. But she couldn't really complain.

As the four of them made their approach, a few AA guns showed up on their HUD and there were a few blips on the radar marking where the targets were. Far overhead and trailing slightly behind them, a B-2 Spirit bomber was waiting for them to reach the first silo and send the coordinates to them. So with the added pressure of being without Wiseman and having to keep an eye on everyone else without any help, she also had to make sure that the bombers stayed in the air and they managed to get all of the silos. Taking a deep breath and making sure to keep her voice steady, she radioed Long Caster, "Alright, Long Caster. This is Strider 1. We're entering the AO now, so just before we get started is there anything we should know?"

There was the sound of what Naomi guessed to be Long Caster chewing on…something crunchy. Probably potato chips, if she had to guess. As always, he was quick to swallow his snack and respond to her with his usual, lighthearted tone, "Actually, yes, now that you mention it. Erusea only has five IRBM silos in total, so they made a number of fake silos to try and throw our bombers off the scent."

To everyone's surprise, Count spoke up for the first time all morning. "Whoah, hold on a minute," he said, taken aback by what Long Caster had just told them. "Did you say 'fake'? How the hell is _that_ supposed to work?"

"An optical illusion. A pretty damn good one, too," Long Caster replied without hesitating. "They're painted to look like the real thing from the sky, and unless you get way down low then you can't tell the difference."

Naomi nodded. "We'll find a way to figure it out. With how important this is, I don't want to waste any of the bombs if we can prevent it," she said. As they lowered their altitude below the clouds and just above the mountain range, she figured now was a good time to give everyone their orders. She remembered Wiseman mentioning that Lanza was better at air-to-ground fights, since he liked to fly low. So that gave her the answer to her first problem. Making herself as authoritative sounding and sure of her orders as she could, she called out, "Alright, Lanza, I want you to scout ahead and take out the anti-air weaponry. Count, Jaeger, for now you two stay with me. Any complaints?" She got none, and Lanza gave a quick confirmation that he understood his orders before he broke off from the squadron, picking off the AA guns that were along the way before he picked up speed and flew ahead of the rest of them.

As they approached the first missile silo, the B-2's two pilots began to chatter amongst themselves, one of them expressing doubt about the operation actually succeeding before his commander silenced him and said reassuringly, "Relax. It's the wing of the LRSSG that brought down the Arsenal Bird. Three Strikes is the leader. Solo Wing's daughter, remember? The one with the red wing?" Naomi was flattered by the reputation she had, but Count didn't share her sentiment and let out an audible sigh of annoyance. The B-2 commander finally addressed them directly, "We've got the bombs. We're counting on y'all to do the terminal guidance, so don't let us down, alright?"

"Righto," Count said, perhaps a little bothered by the fact that their bomber friends seemed to entertain the possibility they might fail. Even Naomi was a little concerned, what with the high expectations placed on them all. They all circled around the first site on the radar, trying to find the best place to approach from, with Lanza having destroyed their anti-air problems and was currently moving onto the next. Count took a deep breath before he hesitantly and awkwardly asked, "Long Caster, just so we don't forget, you wanna…er, remind us how to use these things?"

"Let me guess, you're asking because you actually _did_ forget?" Naomi asked, teasing him slightly in hopes to ease the tension between them. If you could hear someone roll their eyes, then she was pretty sure that it was the only sound she'd have heard from him.

Long Caster patiently answered his question, sounding mildly amused in spite of the overall seriousness of their mission, "To use the targeting pods, you'll need to switch weapons first. Try to align the missile silo as best you can with the circle that will appear in the center of your HUD. Once you're lined up, all you have to do is hit the firing switch and the bomb will drop. But you'll have to keep it aligned until the bomb hits, otherwise it'll miss its mark. If you do miss, it's not too big a deal, but firing another one will take some time, so you'll need to aim carefully if you want this to go by faster." Everyone said that they understood. After a pause, Long Caster spoke again, sounding embarrassed for not pointing it out sooner, "Also, they've set up a lot of anti-air weapons, but I guess you already knew that."

"Yup!" came the enthusiastic response from a rather excited Lanza. At least he was enjoying himself so far, and Naomi couldn't help but chuckle a little bit.

"Well, we're going to have to work together to take care of everything," Jaeger pointed out, mostly to Naomi as if to remind her that he and Count were awaiting her orders and that they all needed to work together.

Naomi checked her radar and figured out how they'd be doing things within a matter of seconds. Alright, let's try this. Trying her best to think like a leader and get things under their control, she started to give the rest of the orders to them, "Jaeger, I want you to watch the skies. Any enemy aircraft that show up and come after the rest of us or the bomber are your responsibility. I need you to help me make sure we all stay in the air. Lanza, you keep it up with the AA guns and keep 'em off of our backs." She paused as both men gave her a quick 'roger', her eyes flicking over to Count who was still on her wing while Jaeger broke off from them. Praying that he wouldn't put up a fight and they'd actually be able to work together, Naomi finally called out to him, "And Count?"

"Yeah?" he asked her quickly and more than a little defensively. He was probably preparing himself for an order he wouldn't like.

"You and I are going to work together to target the missile silos," Naomi said at last with a nod to herself. With a more careful and quiet tone, she asked him, "So what say you work with me on this, huh? 'Stick with Trigger'?"

Count didn't answer her at first, and she was worried that she'd accidentally upset him again without realizing it. But after a pause he finally agreed, "Sure. Whatever you say. Let's just hurry this up, alright?"

Not the most enthusiastic response she'd ever gotten, but it was a step in the right direction. She smiled a little to herself. "Righto," she chirped, making use of his own favorite word. He let out a surprised 'huh?' at hearing the word coming from her mouth, and it did sound a little unusual when she stopped to think about it, but she had other things to worry about. Naomi pulled up, and when Count moved to follow her, she said to him, "Count, why don't you do the honors of destroying the first missile silo? There are five of them, and your score honestly has been lookin' pretty pathetic, so here's your chance to catch up to the rest of us."

"_Me?_" Count asked her, not sure that he'd heard her right.

"Do you see anyone else named 'Count'?" Naomi asked him, smirking at his confusion even though he couldn't see it. She continued to circle, wavering as if she was going to begin her approach towards the target and handle it herself. "I mean, if you don't want to get in on the action then I could just—"

"Nice try, Trigger," Count cut her off and she pulled back up and clear of his plane to give him space to hit and run. "But this one's mine!" He dove towards the ground, lowering his speed and leveling out as low as he could manage without crashing. He switched weapons and aligned the target just as Long Caster had instructed, keeping it centered as they waited for the bomb to drop. There was a loud explosion as the bomb hit right on top of the silo, sending dirt, fire, and smoke up with it as Count pulled clear and joined back up with Naomi, letting out a victorious cheer. "Alright! The bunker buster hit its mark! Time for fireworks!"

"Destruction of first missile silo confirmed!" Long Caster called out. "Nice work, Strider 2."

"Don't get too caught up in the celebrating," the voice of the B-2's commander called out to them quickly. "Remember that the IRBM is aimed at the Osean garrison. Soldiers' lives are at stake and we don't have time to let our guard down."

Naomi was surprised to hear that, and it was the first time they'd been informed of it. "Wait, are you serious? Damn, the Erusean's must be getting real desperate."

"Sounds like they've completely lost it," Count said, his tone a mix of anger and concern.

"Yeah, you can bet on it," Jaeger agreed with him. "If they succeed today, then who knows what other extremes they might try."

"Well, then let's focus on ending this madness and keeping things from getting out of hand," Naomi replied firmly, trying to keep up morale and not. They were making their approach on the second target on the radar, and Lanza was just finishing up with the anti-air weaponry. "Looking good, Lanza. Keep up the pressure," she complimented him as she made a low pass over the area to get visual confirmation on the target, with Lanza taking out the last AA gun and SAM site in the area right before they could fire at her and Count.

Lanza chuckled. "Thanks boss!" he called out, and Naomi was caught off guard by that, but she managed to smile nevertheless. And with that, he continued moving on to search for the remaining ground targets and leaving the silo to the others.

As Naomi started her second approach, switching to the targeting pods as she did, something about the supposed silo didn't look right. She had a bit of a wild theory, but she had to chance it. Besides, if she was wrong then she'd just come back around. Instead of hitting the firing switch on the targeting pods, she instead made use of her machine gun. Instead of bouncing off of a regular structure, they all hit the ground and brought dirt flying up instead, disappearing from her HUD after that. Naomi pulled up with an irritated huff as Count flew alongside her. "Well, take a good look — we've got ourselves a fake," he said as they moved on. "Let's keep huntin', Trigger."

So that's just what they did, flying side by side to move onto their next target. As they approached the next silo, Naomi thought that she had it centered and went ahead and pressed fire. However, right before the bomb would have hit, a gust of wind hit her and her plane was pushed off of its original course, giving her no choice but to pull up to keep from crashing into the mountains nearby and she was reminded of Yinshi and Waiapolo, with the wind and close quarters. The circle on the HUD jerked to the side and the bomb followed it, hitting as far away from the silo as it possibly could have. "Aim carefully," Long Caster reminded her quickly as she struggled with the wind some more. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wasn't expecting the wind to be this bad. I'm heading around for another try," Naomi replied. She recalled Count once yelling at Spare Squadron to 'use the winds to guide you', and ultimately putting it into practice at Yinshi Valley. It had worked well then, so there wasn't any reason she couldn't use it now. She banked right, leveling out once she'd gotten back on course. Aligning the circle, she got it as good as the wind would allow, breaking to give her a little extra assistance. The wind pushed her off to the side at the last minute when she adjusted her angle, and the circle was directly on the silo as the bomb dropped. Naomi grinned. "This is Strider 1! Target destroyed!"

"Look! There's fire shooting up from the ground!" Lanza called out.

"Missile silo confirmed destroyed! That makes two!" Long Caster informed them. "No launch signs, yet."

"Heh. You know, we might actually be able to pull this off," Count said smugly as he and Naomi were joined by Jaeger, who was waiting for more enemy air support to show up so he wasn't left without something to do.

"Let's just hurry up and take out the rest of those silos," Jaeger said.

Right at that moment, a group of Typhoons appeared on their radars. "I'm picking up an enemy squadron," Long Caster announced. "Must be the reinforcements they called in. They don't appear to be going after our bomber, but take them out if they interfere with the mission."

"Jaeger, that's your cue!" Naomi said quickly and more aggressively than she meant to. It seemed to take everyone by surprise. Naomi wasn't too worried about that, though, so much as she was about the fighters. When Jaeger didn't react right away, she elaborated on her orders, "I don't want to take any chances out here. Keep them off me and Count and don't give them the opportunity to head for the bomber."

Jaeger chuckled as he split off from Naomi and Count once again, heading to intercept the enemy fighters. "Yes ma'am," he said through a grin.

"Best of luck, old man," Count said as he watched him leave and he and Naomi hit the afterburners. As they closed in on the target, he called out to her, "Yo! Trigger! I've got dibs on the next one!"

Naomi wouldn't argue with him, but Lanza let out an irritated sigh at this. "Look, this is a serious mission," he said, obviously not pleased that Naomi had allowed Count to keep up his little 'competition' and likely not used to Skald being absent. From everything Naomi had seen with them, the two of them were like brothers and it had been rare to see one without the other. Naomi understood not wanting to be apart from your friends, but at least she could make do with it. With a very short pause in between what he'd said, Lanza demanded to no one in particular, "Was it Wiseman who gave Strider 2 to Count?"

She'd forgotten that only Jaeger had the full story and knew why they had rearranged the squadron. It was Jaeger who came to the rescue, having the perfect answer to Lanza's question without revealing the fact that today was technically a test for Naomi and Count. "Our formation has changed several times before, Lanza," he reminded him calmly, having taken out the Typhoons. He now flew alongside Lanza to provide some cover from the enemy helicopters that were buzzing around. "Besides, Wiseman has a good reason for it."

Count let out a scoff. "Pfft. I'll believe that when I see it," he said. "I'm just glad he's not here to chew my ear off." Naomi didn't really agree with him, but it was nice with a chance to call the shots without someone else higher up the chain of command breathing down your neck. Sure, Long Caster was there monitoring everything, but that was different. She didn't have to report directly to him. But Naomi was brought out of her otherwise distracting train of thought as Count strafed the target and discovered it was nothing more than a fake. "Aww, crap. Another fake. Get close and you can see it's just paint. No dimension at all."

"We've still got three more to find," Naomi reminded them all with a sigh, carefully avoiding some fire from an AA gun as they regrouped and Lanza was finally able to reach them. She checked her HUD and radar. On opposite sides of the mountain with the fake one, were two sites set up. She checked her six, seeing that Jaeger was still keeping the enemy aircraft busy for them. Lanza continued his duties just fine...There wasn't any reason for them not to split up. Only one more fake was left, anyways. "Count, take the one on the right. I'll take the one on the left. If we can get that last fake out of the way, then we won't waste any ammo 'screening' them first…"

"Righto. Sounds like a plan to me." Count's plane banked to the right and he slowed down to get the target in his sights while Naomi headed for the other site. With only four targets left, one of them had to be finding the fake one.

"The fewer there are, the harder they'll be to find," the second bomber pilot said to them. "Good luck." _Oh, now you tell us! _Naomi thought, inwardly groaning at the new information. So, maybe the odds weren't exactly in their favor, but Count and Naomi had gotten used to less than favorable odds. This was no different.

As they closed in on their own, individual targets, Naomi fired at it with the machine gun to test it out and revealed the last of the fake silos, meaning that the remaining three had to be the real ones. Even though she didn't have another kill of her own, she still allowed a triumphant smirk at finishing off the last of Erusea's decoys. The enemy fighters seemed to realize this, and dropped the ruse themselves, abandoning their positions around the sites of the fake silos, instead choosing to go after Naomi and Count. The smirk faded as a missile warning went off in her ear and she had to make a sharp, high-G turn to get away from it. The two Erusean MiGs went right after her, forcing Lanza to abandon the ground targets and get them off of her tail while Jaeger tangled with the rest of their reinforcements that they'd scrambled from their nearby base.

Breathlessly thanking Lanza for the cover, she turned back around to rejoin with Count as he let out an excited whoop and pulled clear of the explosion. "Alright! Target destroyed!" he announced. Everyone, much to Naomi's surprise and probably Count's, joined in on complimenting him on his success. He let out a content sigh and coolly said, "You know something? The sky feels open and free today! As a Cyclops, I felt like a bird in a cage. But, once this mission is over, I guess we'll be back under the company commander's thumb again." Count let out another sigh, this one more irritated than the last. "Ugh. What a pain in the ass...Hey, Trig! Where do we look next?"

Naomi balked for a moment at the shortening of her call sign. At first she asked him why he felt the need to make a nickname…from her nickname. But, he was in a better mood than he was before, so Naomi was worried about spoiling things if she said anything. Besides, she could bother him about it later. Right now they needed to finish up the mission. "Uhh…well, I think we should split up again," Naomi said to him, clearing her thoughts. "There's only two left, right? One for each of us. We split up, take 'em out, and call it a day. It'll be a piece of cake. Lanza, Jaeger, you two good with covering us?"

There was a pause before Jaeger finally replied with, "No complaints over here. You two go and take out those remaining silos. We have no idea when they'll launch."

"Jeez, Jaeger, could ya be a little optimistic?" Count asked with an irritable huff. "We'll be on time."

"Let's hope so," Naomi said. She took a deep breath. "Strider 2, let's go give these guys a nice, Osean-style 'good morning'!" The two split off at the same time, finally working in unison. Their planes banked in opposite directions, the bellies of the aircraft facing one another before they both increased their speed, making quick use of the afterburners once again and leveling out. Naomi smiled and glanced out her cockpit and over at Count's plane as they both made their dive and approach. Before long, his plane became nothing than a glinting speck against what little sun they had that day as the space between them increased. So Naomi put her attention back on the missile silo. Taking a deep breath, and carefully lining up the shot, she slowed down and angled the nose of her Eagle up slightly so she could prevent herself from crashing last minute. She pressed the firing switch, "This is Strider 1. Target coordinates sent!"

"Roger, Strider 1. Dropping the bunker buster now," the pilot informed her. Just like every other time before, there were several moments of silence and waiting, with Naomi keeping it as centered as she could. The bomb hit, but not directly, and the structure around the IRBM was simply destroyed. Naomi cursed under her breath and circled back around for another run when the B-2 pilot radioed her again, "The IRBM is unprotected. Standard weaponry should suffice, but you can take your pick."

"Eh, let's do it the easy way." Naomi pulled up before starting another sharp, high-G turn and bringing her plane into a straight dive while she switched to her regular weapons. Once she got a lock on the IRBM, which Long Caster had marked on her HUD for her, she fired and leveled out to fly clear of the explosion. "IRBM has been destroyed. Count, how are you doing with that last one?"

There was a brief period of silence before Count suddenly declared, "Boom! Right on the money!"

"All missile silos confirmed destroyed!" Long Caster announced to them, with the pilots all letting out shouts of victory at the new information.

However, as the squadron regrouped with Count near a seemingly harmless looking dam, something caught their attention. Count was the first to voice his confusion and fear at the situation that began unfolding before them. "Wait…What the hell is that?!"

Everything was quiet for a moment as they all tried to process what was happening, dread continuing to build in the few seconds that passed. The still, dark water seemed to grow more and more distorted until the surface turned white as something burst out of it and sent up a massive splash and a thunderous roar to join it. A massive missile shot into the sky, straight up into the air before it arced slightly to adjust its course. Everyone was too stunned to do much until Long Caster snapped everyone back into reality, "Alert! We've detected an IRBM launch! Confirmed signature on our radar! The launch site is…what the hell…holy — the dam! The launch site is the dam!"

"Not from the silos?!" Jaeger's answer was rhetorical, and more of disbelief than anything. They'd taken out all of the silos, decoys and real ones alike, and Erusea _still_ managed to outwit them and stay a step ahead in the game. They were smarter than everyone gave them credit for if they were able to think that far ahead. Perhaps a little paranoid, but nevertheless more forward thinking than Naomi would have ever imagined. But Osea was catching on fast, and this didn't change anything. Did it?

Naomi shook her head and looked back up at the missile as it gained some distance from them, looking like nothing more than a streak in the sky at this point. They couldn't let that thing get away. If they did…then several people could die. Not just soldiers, either. Who knew who else would get caught up in it? "They certainly hid it well," Naomi huffed out. Thinking through the next orders for her wingmen, she prepared herself to chase the missile down if she had to. Taking a calming breath and remembering that a good leader needed to keep their head in a battle, she asked, "We still have a chance, right Long Caster?"

Long Caster was quick to respond to her, probably making the same realization that everyone else was, "If you hurry. Shoot it down before it reaches critical altitude! Your plane will only be able to follow so far before it stalls, so if you intend to catch it before then, you need to go NOW!" Naomi nodded, immediately picking up speed and lifting her nose to bring her aircraft into a climb to reach the missile. Several enemy fighters tried to take her out head on, but Lanza, Jaeger, and even Count immediately jumped on the three planes to cover her while she intercepted the missile. Unfortunately, just as Naomi adjusted her position to get a clear shot, Long Caster radioed them once again, "Dammit! Strider Squadron, we've confirmed another launch! Take it out!"

_I've kind of got my hands full with _this_ one, in case you didn't notice!_ Naomi thought, gritting her teeth, although she didn't say anything. Trying to focus on lining up her shot and getting a lock on it, slowing her speed without stalling, as well as controlling her shaking, she got her thoughts together long enough to call out orders to the rest of her squadron. "Lanza, Jaeger, keep distracting those fighters and keep them off our tails. Count, I need you to chase down that other missile!"

Count sputtered in disbelief before he finally broke away from Jaeger and Lanza and changed direction to head towards the other missile in the opposite direction. "Righto," he said. "Just be careful. And hurry up!"

Naomi nodded with a small smile, glad that he was willing to listen to her orders and chase after it without a complaint. Jaeger remained to cover Naomi, while Lanza took off after Count to intercept the fighters that were already flocking around the other IRBM to protect it from their advances. Realizing that she was wasting time, she picked up speed and finally got within range of the target. As she fired a pair of missiles, she frantically made use of the machine gun to help the damage along, having to continue to slow her plane to keep from running into it. She grunted in pain and surprise as the IRBM ignited, bursting into a brilliant ball of orange and white that blinded her for a moment. The force shook her plane as it stalled from the reduced speed, but she recovered from both quickly, frantically adding speed so that she didn't fall to the ground.

Just as soon as the missile that Count went after disappeared from the radar, another target popped up. "Incoming!" Count yelled as he recovered from the blast from his own target. "Long Caster, can you confirm it's another launch?"

"It is!" Long Caster said firmly. "Get in there now!"

Both of them started to make a run for the missile, but even while they were pushing the engines to their limits, it seemed like the target wasn't getting any closer. After what felt like forever, and the feeling might have had something to do with the fact that Naomi was finding it hard to breathe properly thanks to fear and adrenaline giving her a hard time, they finally got a visual on the target. Side by side, Naomi and Count pulled up into a climb to match the angle of the IRBM. Lanza and Jaeger wiped out the last of the enemy fighters and quickly tried to catch up, but Naomi and Count were closer than their wingmen and would have a chance to fire before long.

The two Eagles continued their climb, dancing around one another and managing to maintain the same speed and keep from hitting each other as they continued to intercept the target. At last there was a solid tone that meant only one thing: they had a lock. Without either one of them having to prompt the other with an order to fire, they simultaneously fired a pair of missiles, holding their breath as they waited to see if any of the four hit it. Just as intended, all of them found the target and before the explosion could blind them, they both arced back in opposite directions, showing their bellies to the explosion before rolling clear of the shockwave and regrouping with the rest of their squadron mates.

All of them collectively let out a relieved sigh after practically holding their breath throughout the entire ordeal. Naomi looked around to make sure that no one was hurt, breathlessly laughing for a reason that even she didn't fully understand. It wasn't long before all of them joined in, the tension finally lifting. As they all worked to recover from the fit of laughter, Count managed to say after a deep breath, "That was cutting it pretty close. Heh. I was starting to get a little nervous!"

"You're telling me," the first bomber pilot said with a shaky breath, probably having also laughed a little bit. It _was_ really infectious after everything that had just happened. "You had us sweating up here and there wasn't even anything that we could do about it!"

The second one also chuckled. "But in any case, I'm glad we were partnered with you on this operation." Sheepishly, the man that previously doubted them admitted, "I, uh...guess all the rumors we heard were true."

Naomi, still grinning, looked over her shoulder at Count on her wing. "Hey, Sir Count! You still alive?" she asked and heard him snort in amusement and annoyance. Yeah, he was fine. Naomi leaned back in the ejection seat best she could as she was finally able to let up on the engines. Avril was gonna kill her, but at least this time she had a good reason and maybe the Scrap Queen would be merciful enough to make her death quick and painless. "How you feel, Strider 2?"

"Like a wolf that's been let off it's leash," Count said, sounding like he was grinning wildly as he did. "If we keep this up then the Eruseans aren't gonna know what hit 'em!"

"I thought you were a bird freed from its cage," Lanza pointed out what he'd previously said and while all of them gave a quick laugh at his expense, he didn't pay them much mind.

"Whatever. That all went about as expected," he put in with a smug, satisfied smile on his face and a relaxed sigh. "Whatever you do, just be sure to put in the report how much ass I kicked while off the company commander's leash!"

It was Jaeger who responded, surprisingly snarky, "Roger that, and I'll be sure to include all the crap you said about Wiseman, too." After a pause, he sighed and with a much lighter tone he said, "But overall, you both did a good job. I'm impressed. I'm sure my son's gonna love this story."

Naomi blinked. This was the first she remembered hearing about Jaeger having a son. "You have a son?" she asked. "You never told us about him!"

"Oh boy," Lanza said with a groan. He chuckled. "Now that you've brought it up, trust me, he's gonna tell y'all everything about him!"

She chuckled. "Well, it's a long flight back and I'm sure Jaeger would love a story to tell, sooo…by all means."

Jaeger chuckled and Lanza let out another, more exaggerated groan of anguish as Jaeger obliged and began to tell them everything he could about his son. And Naomi actually didn't mind it. As they set a course back to base, their resident storyteller kept them entertained and any silence was tolerable instead of awkward. She had a feeling that even Count enjoyed hearing his stories. Long Caster could be heard continuing to munch on his potato chips the entire time, too, which made Naomi ready to get back and eat lunch. But all of the stress and tension from before was mostly gone.

* * *

**New Arrows Air Base, East of Usea.**  
**1459hrs.**

After they all returned to base and were out of their flight gear, they unfortunately had to report straight to a debriefing where Wiseman, Long Caster, and Commander Hawkins, and her father were waiting for them. But there were smiles on everyone's face. Tired smiles, but smiles nonetheless. When they entered the room, Wiseman put down the mission report he had and strode over to them with a proud look on his face and a smile that made his eyes practically shine. Naomi nervously returned the smile, remembering how stern he'd been with her and Count and how out of line Naomi had been with him. But it seemed that he'd already forgiven her for that and moved on from it. Naomi watched her father follow after him, wearing a look filled with just as much pride if not more (were that even possible).

Her commander gave her a friendly clap on the shoulder before moving onto Count to do the same, and her father pulled her into a hug. "Sounds like you all had an exciting morning," he said to her with a smile. His brow furrowed and he was clearly amused by something as he looked down at her, his arm still wrapped around her shoulder. "Something about a missile being launched from a dam or something crazy like that? Pfft…I wonder where people get ridiculous ideas like that, y'know?"

She noticed that all of the other, older officers shared a look of equal amusement and understanding at the comment her father had made, but Naomi only found it half amusing. "Mmm-hmmm. I'm sure you do," she said to him with a raised eyebrow and a pointed look. He shrugged it off, releasing her from the side hug and letting her and the others continue forward until they reached their base commander. Hawkins looked over them with a small smile, and Naomi jogged the rest of the way across the room. Eagerly, she asked him, "Well, Colonel, how'd we do?

"Well, for starters you've successfully prevented an enemy ballistic missile attack," he replied, probably finding her excitement both amusing and draining at the same time. "So I'd say you all did excellent given the last minute change in the mission. Long Caster told me that everyone pulled their weight out there today." Naomi saw Hawkins' eyes flick from her to Count and then back to her and felt a little disappointed that he expected both of them to do badly. Something told her that he didn't initially have the same faith in them that Wiseman did. He cleared his throat and went on, "Now that we've cleared up Erusea's little distraction, we can now start preparing for our final long-range operation: seizing the capital. Strider Squadron, rest up, now. I've been in touch with the General Staff Office and we might have a change to our schedule with all the tricks that Erusea's desperately pulling out from their sleeves. But for tonight, you're free of most responsibility. Good work, team. You're dismissed."

As the little group began talking amongst themselves about hanging out at the mess hall for a bit, with Long Caster informing them that the cook was whipping up a new dessert and Lanza making the suggestion that they raid the kitchen, Count stood there with a conflicted look on his face, glancing at Naomi. When they turned to him for his input, he nervously scratched the back of his head. "Er, you guys go ahead. I'll catch up later," he said, excusing himself from the group. Naomi watched him leave, somewhat concerned for him. He probably just wanted some space after the rather long morning.

Wiseman came up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder and taking her off to the side, away from the others. "Jaeger and Long Caster both tell me that you handled yourself pretty well out there, kid," he said to her with a soft chuckle. "I didn't really doubt you. Your father told me that you needed a good push, so I gave it to you. And I'll be damned if you didn't figure out how to work with Count and take charge like I told you to. It's a lot different calling the shots when you're the highest ranking officer, huh?"

Naomi nodded, a little embarrassed by the praise. "Yeah, it is…I um…I want to apologize for the way I acted, Major. I understand now that you were only wanting what was best for the squadron. Both of them. And…well, I was being pretty selfish."

"Just a little bit," Wiseman said to her with a shrug. "But don't sweat it, now. I didn't expect perfection from all of you right away. I wanted to give you time to adjust, but with a war going on I had no choice but to throw you into things. You were ready for the action, but you weren't ready for the responsibility initially. I think time will tell, but I still stand by my belief that you've got what it takes. All of you do if you'd get your act together and realize you're on the same team."

"I think Count's getting there," Naomi answered him. "Tabloid's always gotten that part figured out. I…" she trailed off. After everything her own country had put her through, it was a little hard to believe that they were on the same side. If they were, then they weren't necessarily on hers. But her squadron and her friends, on the other hand…they were as far as she could tell. Naomi smiled. "I guess I'm not quite there yet, either. But I'm working on it, sir."

"That's what I like to hear, Captain," Wiseman said. He gave her another pat on the back before giving her a light shove forward towards Jaeger and Lanza. "Now, you and Strider all go out and have a good time. You've earned it after how well you did without your unit commander." Naomi looked back at him and he winked while giving her a warm grin. She returned it, hers more grateful than anything before she turned back around and started to leave with Jaeger and Lanza for the mess hall to follow through with their evil plan of raiding the kitchen. But, Naomi had a secondary plan of her own after their initial raid. Whether or not it would be an appreciated gesture or not was a different matter completely.

* * *

**1647hrs.**

Count stared up at the sky as he leaned back against the hangar walls with a cigarette between his fingers. The radio that he usually kept in his cockpit was sitting at his feet, playing one of the few stations he could pick up. Thankfully there was some international station that played the Greatest Hits from various larger countries. Most of them were from Osea or Erusea, though, with some songs from a popular Emmerian band playing every now and then. Count took a drag on his cigarette, lost in thought with the lyrics from an older song that was popular during the first Continental War. A lot of people joked that it was the great Mobius 1's theme song, or took it the extra step and said it was the perfect song for any fighter pilot. Count could get behind that.

As he stood up at the cloudless sky, he couldn't help but think back to the operation from earlier in the day. Honestly, he'd never been so nervous before. They'd had several close calls before, but that one took the cake. For the time being. Chasing down a ballistic missile probably wasn't the craziest thing they'd ever do, what with how long the war was already dragging on. And with someone as crazy as Trigger leading Strider Squadron, it definitely wasn't the last time that _they'd_ be doing something ridiculous like that. Count sighed, taking a drag on his cigarette and letting the smoke out with an irritated huff. As much as he'd been at odds with Trigger lately, he was a little disappointed that he'd probably be flying with Cyclops again. Something about Wiseman bothered Count. He had a perfectly good explanation, but everyone else loved the man, so he doubted anyone would listen to his reasoning.

Taking on last drag on his cigarette, he dropped it and crushed it under his boot. Short lived smoking session, but he was trying to quit for his own reasons. Although many people would probably argue with him about it, the things didn't do much to help with his nerves. Plus, something about the people around him gave him the impression that they didn't approve. Trigger didn't, he knew that much. Keeping his eyes fixed on the sky overhead, which was starting to turn orange as the afternoon dragged on, he took a deep breath as a cool, late summer breeze blew by. Fall was well on its way. The air was already starting to get cooler, and that crisp autumn scent was already there.

Footsteps startled him from his thoughts, but he didn't break his stare, barely even glancing over at the person that chose to disturb his thoughts. A familiar voice, albeit more subdued and gentle than usual, actually caught his attention. "I thought I'd find you out here." Count crossed his arms, looking out the corner of his eyes at Trigger as she approached, carrying something in one hand and keeping the other behind her back. She stopped a few feet away from him, and looked down at the radio, causing him to actually tilt his head away from the sky and towards her as he tried to read the expression on her face. To his surprise, confusion turned to recognition and her face lit up, a soft smile spreading across her lips. "Oh, they're playing _Blue Skies_? I love that song! My, er…my brother used to play it all the time. Like, actually _play_ it…he umm…he had a guitar and figured out the chords and everything."

Count raised an eyebrow, only mildly disinterested. He wondered two things. One, he wondered why she seemed so nervous, although he could probably answer that one on his own. He was still a little upset about her outburst at Stonehenge, and he imagined that she probably knew this. The second thing he wondered was what she was carrying. To get this information, he figured he could be as short and indirect as possible. That actually was a surprisingly foolproof strategy. People liked to overshare. He smirked. "You know, there was a reason I was by myself," he told her. "So, with all do respect, I hope you have a good reason for interrupting me."

Trigger's smiled faded and it was quickly replaced by a scowl. "Well, I mean, if you want me to leave you and your R & B alone, then I can just leave."

"I never said that." Count allowed a small, half-smile and chuckled ever so slightly at her reaction.

"Well, in that case, I'm staying," she declared with a smug smile, holding out what she was carrying to allow Count to see that it was a plate with some protective plastic wrap over it. He looked up at her, silently asking for her to explain herself. She offered it even without the look. "Lanza and I went through with our raid. I scrounged up a couple of leftover donuts from a day or two ago and —" Trigger brought the hand that was behind her back out and revealed two glass bottles that had been recently pulled out of the fridge, "— I managed to scrounge up a couple of beers. I mean, I know that drinking in uniform is generally frowned upon, but we're not working and there's no one around, sooo…I mean, why not?"

"When did you become such a stickler for the rules?" Count teased her as he reached forward to take one of the beers from her as she took a few more steps to close some of the distance between them. She shrugged it off, pulling out a pocket knife that she carried with her and using that to open her drink. He rolled his eyes, recalling a brief conversation he'd had with their friend Avril about figuring Trigger out or something like that. He didn't quite think that was possible. Opening his own drink and taking a sip, they sat in silence for a moment before he glanced back at her when she joined him in leaning against the wall. "You know, you didn't really answer my question."

She looked at him in confusion. "What question?"

"Wasn't really a question. I just figured you had better things to do, so why leave a party to come and bother me? Beer and day old donuts? Not exactly the greatest combination in the world," Count pointed out with a dry laugh.

"Well, I guess I wanted to talk to you…" Trigger admitted. It was his turn to be both confused and surprised. She looked at him before she went on, "I feel bad for yelling at you when we were defending Stonehenge. I was way out of line, I pulled a stunt that endangered everyone, and after having Wiseman yell at me and keep me out of the air for a few days…well, I guess I realized that. I empathize with the freed from a cage feeling you mentioned during the mission. Anyways, I was kind of being a—"

"A bitch?" Count offered helpfully and Trigger glared at him for a moment before smacking his arm. He let out a laugh that actually surprised himself.

"I would have gone with a nicer word, but I guess 'bitch' works too," Trigger said to him, shaking her head and taking a swig of her beer. She took a deep breath. "I guess I'm just trying to say that I really am sorry for lashing out like I did. I don't really have an excuse for it or any real, fair reasoning behind it, but I hope you could try not to hold it against me."

Count looked at her, taken off guard by the apology. He debated it in his head for a moment, although he'd mostly cooled of by now and wasn't that upset about it. Irritated, maybe, but not still at the 'hold a grudge and never speak to you again' level of irritation. Wanting to maintain his cool demeanor, he simply shrugged. "Eh, I'll think about it," he said, but Trigger must have been satisfied with the answer because she looked at him with a mix of relief and appreciation. For someone that was typically so open and feisty, it was a little odd to see her acting so subdued and laid back. Okay, so at least her slapping his arm meant that she hadn't completely lost her edge. Her mind, maybe, but not the attitude.

They didn't speak for a few minutes, up until the song finished and the radio station chose to cut to a quick commercial break for some Erusean insurance company. It wasn't as if they had any problem just standing there and providing subtle company, but neither one of them were interested in listening to commercials. Honestly, who would be interested in listening to them? Trigger cleared her throat, staring down at her drink for a second as she thought for the right conversation starter. At last she found it, and gave him a playful smirk. "So, uh, what was with that new nickname earlier? 'Trig'? I mean, I've never heard anyone make a nickname from something that is already considered a nickname."

"Oh, that." Count inwardly cringed as he recalled letting the name slip. He actually didn't remember where it came from. Maybe it was just laziness and not wanting to say her full name, or he could look at it as having been more convenient at the time. Looking back, it sort of reminded him of high school and freaking trigonometry of all things. There probably wasn't a good answer for why he actually chose to call her that. He shrugged it off. "Eh…it was just easier than saying 'Trigger' at the time, I guess." Count paused and then stifled a laugh as he took a drink. "If you'd like, I could call you 'Cap' instead. Or 'boss' like Lanza does. Or maybe Solo Wing Trigger, eh?"

Trigger chuckled. "Yeah, I'm not so sure about that. I mean, 'boss' at least makes me feel a bit like a badass. Solo Wing Trigger doesn't have the same flow, but I could live with it...but you call me 'Cap' and I'm going to start thinking that I've stepped into the MCU or something." They both grinned at this. He'd never pegged Trigger for a movie fan, for some reason. They actually had never talked about regular things before, which made the topic a little unusual. Trigger sighed. "But, uh…weird nickname aside, you did a good job today. Wiseman seemed really proud. Um...Thanks for the help with those missiles."

"Eh, no problem. I just knew that I couldn't let you top my score." Count gave her a cocky smile and she rolled her eyes at him. She did that an awful lot whenever he was around. He suspected that she picked it up from Avril or Húxiān considering how much both of them did that to just about anyone. He sighed, the smile fading to more of a frown. "I guess I should thank you for giving me some more freedom out there today. Wiseman still treats me like I'm a kid with no skill and now he's come along to 'rescue' me and teach me how to be a 'real pilot' or whatever. Pfft. How do you deal with that guy, Trigger? I mean, seriously, the guy thinks he's a god or something. At least he expects to be treated like one."

"To be fair, you have an awfully high opinion of yourself as well," Trigger said. He looked at her, somewhat offended, and she shrugged. "Hey, you called me a bitch earlier and it was true, so I'm not going to sugarcoat things just for your sake. Besides, what's a good friendship without honesty, eh?" Friends? That sounded weird. He cared about Trigger and Tabloid but he'd never called them friends before, or heard them call him a friend. Imagine that. In spite of his efforts and prickly personality, they actually liked him. Poor decision on their part, but he was the king of poor decisions so who was he to judge. Completely unaware of his cynical train of thought, Trigger continued, "I mean, Wiseman's got years more experience than either one of us. I think he's earned the right to lord it over us."

"Doesn't mean I have to like having it constantly rubbed in my face. I've met too many people like that in my life and at some point you get real tired of dealing with them," he said with a huff.

"I think you just don't like other people treating you like you've been treating them all this time," Trigger replied and Count glared at her. Was she trying to make him feel better? She tried to maintain a calm tone and not sound accusatory, but it did come across like that. For a moment she hesitated, probably debating offering her reasoning behind the comment. "Look, Count, I'm not saying that you can't change. Come on, I know for a fact that you remember how you treated me when I first joined Spare Squadron. You thought you were the greatest pilot in the world and you didn't like being shown up. Wiseman was an ace before either of us, and he's probably seen more action than us. He just doesn't want there to be any question about who's in charge, just like you didn't want that in Spare."

It was Count's turn to roll his eyes. "Alright. Whatever you say, Miss Psychologist."

"Not really psychology, but you're welcome anyways." Trigger said smugly.

He smirked. "I didn't thank you. It's horrible advice, if you could even call it that."

"Yeah, well, I never said you'd like hearing it and I also didn't call it advice. Just a general observation."

Count didn't answer, just shook his head with a defeated sigh and a ghost of a smile. He felt a little better. The truth was, he probably could do several things to prove himself to Wiseman. Hell, he had done several things to prove himself to Wiseman and their commander remained tough on him. It was exhausting. After dealing with McKinsey in Spare Squadron, and after Wiseman acted all wise and kind when they first arrived, he was actually hoping and expecting things to be a little easier. Instead it was damn near impossible to please Wiseman, although it wasn't nearly as bad as McKinsey who straight up punished them for not following his orders _word for word_. At least Trigger's dad punched him. That was satisfying. But unfortunately Wiseman wasn't a traitor, not exactly a tyrant, and hadn't really done anything worthy of being punched however tempting it could be at times.

It was easy for Trigger to stay neutral. She had been given command of a squadron, gotten a promotion, and was basically Wiseman's right hand man…or would it be right hand woman? Either way, Wiseman trusted her today. In a way, maybe he'd trusted Count, but most of the trust that was given out was between Count and Trigger. At least she found a balance of keeping him close so that they could watch each others backs and allowing him some free rein to help speed things up again. She gave him a moment to shine, and maybe Wiseman had been partly responsible for that, but Count was going to keep him at a distance for the time being. He wasn't going going to let Wiseman walk all over him. But maybe Trigger had a point and if he just kept his head down and made an effort to be less hostile then everyone else might do the same for him. _Like today_.

The next song had started playing. A rather popular Erusean song they called _pensées_. It meant 'thoughts' and in a way the lyrics reflected their title perhaps in a more meaningful way. Not a bad tune. Count rather enjoyed it. If Erusea had one good thing going for them then it was the music. Trigger tilted her head to the side as she listened to it. After a moment, she finally said, "Hey, Count? You speak Erusean. You care to translate?"

"It's just a song, Trig..." he replied distractedly as he tried and failed once again to return to his thinking and staring at the sky, then pursed his lips and lowered his head in embarrassment realized he'd let the nickname slip out again. _God, what have I done to myself?_

Trigger grinned at him and her eyes lit up as she got a good laugh at him. When it finally died off and she'd caught her breath, she declared, "Because of that, I think you owe me at least some explanation. I'm not asking you to sing the song, just tell me what it's about."

Count nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Er, well, I've heard a couple of different theories from people. Some say it's a love song and others say it's just a song about good, peaceful times with friends. It could really be either." He paused to listen to the lyrics being sung at the moment, quickly making the connection to his own language with it and thinking of the best way to explain it. "I guess it could really be any one of them, honestly. Overall it just sounds like a song about people that went through hardships together, but always had the other to rely on, finally getting some peace, and so on and so forth. It's really a bit cheesy when it all boils down if you look at it that way"

She paused, looking thoughtful as she seemed to focus on the lyrics. After a while she nodded and leaned her head back against the wall, looking up at the sky like he'd been doing on and off. "Actually, kinda like that. It's a pretty song."

He looked at her for a moment, surprised, before he gave a small, somewhat fond smile. Count chuckled. "Yeah. I guess it is." As the song continued to play, they both just watched the sun set without any other words between the two of them for a good, long while. They just finished up their beers and eventually tried the 'slightly aged' donuts as Trigger had put it (in such a tone and accent that resembled some chef trying to sell a ridiculously simple dish as a delicacy). And in the end he wasn't nearly as bothered with the company as he thought he would be. In fact, he actually rather enjoyed it. As he'd said before, she actually wasn't so bad for a Belkan. And in his head he heard her sharply correct him. _Alright, you win. Osean_.

* * *

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
_**September 3rd, 2019.**_  
**0023hrs.**

Late one night, or rather early one morning, an unexpected visitor arrived at the air base. Dr. Schroeder was working late when the leader of one of Erusea's political parties paid a visit. Of course Schroeder knew exactly who it was. He was alone in the hangar, his assistants Massa and Simon having long since gone to bed. Mihaly and his squadron were asleep by now as well, and most of the base aside from a few guards were all oblivious to anything happening on the base. Adjusting his glasses and looking out into the night from the hangar, he straightened up as the sound of a vehicle was heard in the distance.

They weren't entirely cut off from the rest of the world, but it was a long drive from the facility to the capital, which is why most of their visitors arrived by plane. This also prevented them from any stress at the main gate and a few other checkpoints set up around the facility to keep out any unwanted guests. But everyone knew who this man was, and there was no mistaking his identity. General François Parrish entered the hangar, his bodyguards all stopping outside when he held his hands up. Schroeder eyed him as he invaded his workspace, thankfully not touching the computers or anything, surprisingly. There was a time when every visit involved the former general picking up delicate equipment and…fidgeting with it. A peeve of Schroeder's.

One of the first things Schroeder noticed about Parrish, was that he clearly had not gotten good sleep in the last few days. His eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles to go along with it and complete the look. To top it all off, he was quite clearly angry with someone or something. Without any proper greeting, he pulled out a unfortunately not neatly folded piece of paper and slammed it onto one of the desks set up in the hangar. Schroeder didn't flinch as the loud sound echoed through the hangar, simply maintaining a blank expression and slowly turning to look at the paper with his hands in his pockets. Parrish was quick to start throwing out orders, "Signed from the King. The adapted drones from the Arsenal Bird aren't enough. If we have any hope of winning, then Erusea needs to act smarter and faster. The new drones…I want you to start work on them immediately."

Schroeder bit back a sigh, evenly meeting Parrish's cold stare. "Good to see you again, as well, General." He ignored Parrish rolling his eyes and moving back with exaggerated and overly expressive gestures, and instead reached down to examine the paper. Indeed, it was a signed order from the King of Erusea himself. Unfortunately for the general, Schroeder didn't actually serve the King and by extension he didn't officially serve the Erusean government either. He was still a Belkan citizen, Gründer Industries just requested he serve Erusea with the drones due to his expertise. "I'm afraid I have to politely decline your request, though. I'm still gathering the necessary flight data for the drones to initially operate with and let them build off of that."

"Then what you have is enough," Parrish snapped. As if Schroeder actually cared, Parrish jumped into a rant that likely had the intention to frighten him into submission, "If we don't act fast then our own government is going to tear itself apart. It'll be anarchy. Those opposed to the drone production have already gotten to the princess, and it won't be long until her father follows suit. Erusea is getting desperate, Doctor, and thanks to that ridiculous 'Three Strikes' or 'Solo Wing' or whoever the hell this moron is supposed to be, we've lost almost every advantage that we have! I don't care if you have to slave over these computers for weeks, I want the drones completed before the year is out!"

"What you're asking is insanity," Schroeder replied with a level tone, hoping to prevent escalating the argument. "You barge in here and give me a ridiculous set of demands to follow. It took year to simply design those drones and figure out how to make it so that they could actually fly, and now you're asking me to cram a couple of months worth of data into them and send them into battle untested? Do you have any idea what the costs for that would be? You lose them to this new pilot and you lose years of work. Along with that, you'd lose the war."

Parrish scoffed. "I'm sure you Belkan dogs would know all about losing a war..." he muttered, and Schroeder pretended not to hear it. After a few years you started to become numb to all of the insults hurled at you thanks to your foolish government's actions during an unnecessary war. Parrish regained his composure. "I don't care about the cost, I have the King backing me for the time being. I can pay for the production without any difficulty. Everyone that you have working here is to assist you, day and night, whenever you need it. That old has been that you have flying for you is to be sent up as much as possible. Every day if you have to. Get everything that you possibly can from him."

"Sir, we can't send General Shilage on sortie every day. The flights we've sent him on so far…the suits keep failing. They aren't enough to protect him," Schroeder argued, perhaps hiding behind Mihaly's health as an excuse not to rush work that needed to be taken step-by-step over the course of years to perfect everything. "If we push him that hard then it could kill him."

"Then kill him if you have to, I don't give a damn! Or get a new flight suit. We're running out of time!" Parrish snapped. "I'm losing the support I once had from Erusea thanks to the Princess and her little 'We shouldn't hate Oseans' speech. Naive little brat…what would she know, after being brainwashed by Labarthe…stupid old man is being investigated as we speak. Ha!" He was mostly talking to himself, staring at the ground, before he looked to Schroeder again. "I want — need — Osea to understand what it's like to lose for once. Make them understand that Erusea is not a country of pushovers and that we don't need them swooping into to 'save' us and instead ruin our land. I want to watch them all burn, and their precious Three Strikes can be the first one to go…with these drones, I could accomplish that. Now are you going to get to work on them willingly or am I going to have to force you?"

Schroeder hesitated, finding himself uncomfortable with what Parrish was saying. It sounded like he was on the brink of insanity. The scientist looked him over for a moment, just wanting him gone at this point so he no longer had to listen to this. He sighed. "I'll do it. But I'm not going to put General Shilage at any more risk than absolutely necessary. He isn't interested in your agenda, nor am I, so don't think for a second that I'm rushing my work as any favor to you."

Parrish waved him off, seeming pleased by the answer. He shrugged and turned to leave, calling over his shoulder, "Do whatever you like, Schroeder, so long as I get what I want in the end. I don't care. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a long trip back and more work to do. I expect constant updates, Doctor." He paused, looking back at Schroeder with a fake, eery smile on his face, he added, "And if anyone asks, I was never here. I'll be in touch."

As he watched him leave, he let out a dejected, tired sigh. Once the general was gone completely, he stared down at his keyboard, conflicted. No longer interested in working through the night, he saved what progress he'd made and shut everything down for the night. And yet he was still unable to rest, with the idea that the work that he was doing wasn't so good after all. But what was he supposed to do? Say no and risk losing his job, or worse yet, his life? Small price to pay for some, but not to him. All he had was his work. Good or bad, he did what he needed to do. He simply provided them with the means to fight. What they did after that wasn't his concern nor was it his responsibility.

Or at least, that's what he told himself in order to get to sleep that night.

* * *

Author's Note: _Regardless of what anyone says, these chapters are _definitely _not filler…hehe…what even _gave_ you that impression?_

_I'll admit, this chapter was heavily centric on Count and Naomi sort of unintentionally, but the next few chapters might center on some more forgotten characters that we haven't visited in a while. I also included a few hints to the DLC in the last few chapters (well, actually more like references to the last trailer) because I might take a break from writing until the first DLC mission releases and use that mission. However, if it doesn't release this month then I might not add them in. We'll just have to see how it goes and if it's worth using it in the story, but otherwise it would probably be a separate mini-story if anything. Only time will tell._

_Also, shout-out to Sir Perfluous for the 'Solo Wing Trigger' nickname that made its appearance here. I know it was a joke, but I couldn't resist having it appear at least once in the story, even in passing! ;)_


	27. All In A Day

Chapter Twenty-Six: All In A Day

|…|…|…|

**Farbanti, Erusea.**  
_**September 3rd, 2019.**_  
**0813hrs.**

|…|…|…|

General Parrish was back at the palace, and in as awful a mood as ever. No surprise there. In all the years Henri had spent working as a bodyguard for the royal family, never once had he met a politician he hated nearly as much as he hated General Parrish. Although at this point, the 'general' part of his name was meant to be only a formality. Yet Parrish seemed to be taking charge of the military like a regular leader, seeming to divide their forces rather than unite them. It was no wonder that Osea was starting to turn the war in their favor. That and the fact that they had a brand new ace on their side. Erusea had General Shilage, that was no secret, but he hadn't been well recently and was being sent out on fewer sorties. The drones brought absolutely nothing good to the table.

Right now, the King and the general were in conference. Poor Princess Cossette was joining them, although her father had been surprisingly harsh with her after she went against his wishes with her last speech to the public. That had caused quite a stir among the people, and the news was still talking about it. Henri pitied the Princess, having gone from such a bright young girl to a political pawn in the course of a few years. She'd always been a kind-hearted, respectful child, and it wasn't her that wanted the war with Osea. At least not now. She'd been manipulated, and now that they realized her doubts and the fact that she understood how they'd used her it was clear that they weren't happy about it.

He'd made a vow to never question the King and respect them regardless, but even he was starting to be manipulated by Parrish. The King — at Parrish's prompting — ordered an investigation into General Labarthe and ever since then, no one had heard from the Conservative leader. Henri could only pray that he'd found a way to escape, because once they finished their investigation and discovered that Labarthe had been communicating in secret with Osea then he'd be branded a traitor and likely killed on sight. Henri knew this, but he'd held his tongue, finding himself slowly leaning to support the Conservatives for his own stubborn reasons. If there was something other than vigilance that he was good at, it was listening and keeping secrets. Everyone considered him a confidant, and it was rare that he divulged the information shared with him. Unless the other person was someone who had his absolute trust.

Henri lingered outside of the King's study, straining to hear the conversation coming from inside. It was too muffled for him to make anything out, but he did know that Princess Cossette was rarely allowed to speak up. He felt another stab of pity as he had so frequently ever since that day, before he let out a tired sigh and made his way down the hall, towards the kitchen. Although he never actually joined in on the chatter among the cooks, he did enjoy eavesdropping on their gossiping. Also, some of them were usually kind enough to let him help out so that he felt like he was actually doing some good. Although he was a bodyguard, nothing very exciting ever happened. Maybe that was a good thing. Either way, he still got paid for the work and respected by everyone for the possible dangers that came with his job.

As he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to see the Queen moving about the kitchen, joking with the staff. Henri stopped short, taking in a deep breath and shaking his head in amusement. The woman never once stopped her working. He'd be lying if he said he didn't admire her work ethic. After living as a commoner for so long, it was no surprise that she rarely let the staff handle all of the work and was often seen helping them out as if she was one of them. Her blonde hair, the same color as her daughter's, was pulled up into a tight bun to keep it out of her face, and her blue eyes were practically shining as she moved about the kitchen. The only thing marring her appearance was some flour on her apron, hands, and face, although in his opinion it didn't detract from her appearance. Henri tensed up as the Queen — her name being Annette — looked over at him with a kind smile. "Ah! Bonjour, Henri! Surprised to see you in here today!"

He dipped his head in a respectful and nervous manner, smiling sheepishly. "Yes, well…I hadn't planned on it, but General Parrish didn't want me to attend their meeting. I got a little bored standing outside."

Queen Annette gave him a knowing look, nodding as she reached for a nearby knife to cut the tomato she had. "Yes, well, François is a funny man. Never was the same after the last war, so we always let his weird behavior slide. At least, the King's cousin and his brother were fine with ignoring it. We weren't so sure, but we figured he was decent enough." As she began slicing the tomato, Henri was quick to find something he could do to help out to continue their conversation. There was some anger in her voice as she spoke of Parrish, unusual for her. Like Princess Cossette, she never was an ill-tempered woman. Short-tempered at times, but she always managed to get it under control and she'd mellowed out once her husband assumed the throne.

Henri took a couple of carrots and a smaller knife and began chopping as they continued their conversation. "I've never heard much about his time in service, before he entered into regular politics," he said. "He seems like such a…well, if you don't mind me being blunt, Your Majesty, he seems a little bitter. Especially, I've noticed, towards Osea."

She looked up from her slicing and narrowed her eyes for a moment, as if debating speaking with him about Parrish. At last, Queen Annette returned to her tomato-cutting and explained, "Well, he wasn't a pilot during the war, but many of his close friends were. His brother was, too. And you remember how badly ISAF's ace crippled our air force."

"Who could forget," Henri said, gently moving the chopped carrots to the side to get started on the next. Everyone knew of the legendary Mobius 1, although they knew very little about him. Just that he was a pilot with a ribbon insignia that fought for ISAF. Beyond that, every file on him released to the public had been redacted, save for any basic knowledge on him. He'd defeated the powerful Yellow Squadron and stopped a Free Erusea uprising a few years after that. Henri looked up at the Queen. "Are you telling me that Parrish's brother was shot down by Mobius 1? What would that have to do with Osea? They weren't involved in the war."

"Well, not directly, anyways," Queen Annette answered him with a shrug. She laughed, almost nervously. "It's an absurd rumor, really, that surfaced a while ago. Something about Mobius 1 possibly being an Osean. After all, we heard years ago that this ace just showed up one day and I guess just decided to fight for ISAF. Either way, I suppose that François just wanted somewhere to lay the blame and Mobius 1 and Osea were easy targets. But now that Mobius 1 has disappeared again and Osea moved in with the Space Elevator, well…you can imagine what that did to him. Now he's got a natural disliking of Osea and all those in it. At least in its military." The Queen paused and glanced at Henri. "I probably shouldn't be telling you all of this. But between you and I, I'm starting to trust Parrish less and less. I've been speaking with Cossette, and he seems rather harsh. He's seemed to turn my husband and child against one another…God, sometimes I wish we hadn't gotten involved in politics."

"I don't think you could have really chosen that. But I'm sure it's not all that bad. Your husband is a good man, and your daughter seems to have handled it well enough before now," Henri replied. Queen Annette looked up at him, as if she was asking what he knew that she didn't. He wasn't about to lie to her, and if Princess Cossette had been lying to her mother about how stressed she truly was then it was for the good of the family. He explained, "Well, Princess Cossette confided in me the evening after her speech. Her heart doesn't seem into her speeches anymore, and…it really isn't my place to say, but I don't believe that she supports the war as much as Parrish and the King do."

"I could have told you that, Henri," the Queen huffed, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear and smearing flour across her cheek. She huffed as she finished with the tomatoes, talking as she moved about, the rest of the kitchen staff pretending to mind their own business. "Even I don't support the war. It's a foolish, wasteful endeavor. Our capital has been attacked. Entire lives — families — have been uprooted. Countless people were killed. And all for what? This war is General Parrish's endeavor, and my husband is unfortunately foolish enough to follow along with it. Gunther Peninsula and the bay isn't even Erusean territory. The Space Elevator was authorized by the government of Selatapura, and building it doesn't 'threaten Erusea's sovereignty' or whatever garbage they've had my child relaying to the public." Queen Annette turned and gave Henri an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Henri. I shouldn't be dumping all of this on you. Parrish isn't a bad man, nor is the King. They're just terribly misguided and everyone else pays the price. Eventually it will come back around on them, but whether or not it will be too late by then…"

Henri chuckled as he wrapped up his chopping. "Well, Your Majesty, I think they should be leaving the public speaking to you, personally."

Queen Annette's face flushed slightly and she stifled a laugh. "Oh, goodness no, Henri! I love my country, believe me, but I didn't make a vow to the public, I made one to my family and that's why I'm standing by them regardless of my opinions on their decision. I don't support them, but I'm not going to fight with them to try and fail to change their minds. They've made their bed, now they have to lie in it. I only wish Cossette had realized it a bit sooner." Before Henri could respond, the door to the kitchen opened and the King stood there, a somewhat surprised look on his face. The Queen's face lit up as she saw her husband and she stepped forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Good morning, _mon amour_! How was the meeting?"

The King brushed his wife off in the literal sense, wiping his cheek to make sure that she hadn't gotten any crumbs or anything on him. He looked at her, then his eyes flicked over to Henri suspiciously before giving the Queen his full attention. "Just fine. But, I have to leave for the rest of the day, so I won't be joining you or Rosa Cossette for breakfast. I just came to fetch Henri." The King of Erusea looked back at Henri and cleared his throat. "Ahem. Henri, I'm afraid that we need to leave right away." He paused and glanced down at the knife in his hands and smirked slightly as he added, "That is, if you haven't resigned as bodyguard and found your true calling as a chef."

Henri quickly wiped his hands on a nearby towel after he set the knife down, adjusting his tie and straightening his jacket out. "No, Your Majesty, of course I haven't. I was only offering a hand." He made his way across the kitchen and bowed to the Queen, bidding her farewell as he and the King stepped back out into the hallway. Henri glanced down the hallway and happened to see Princess Cossette and her dog Leo walking with Parrish while the General said something in an extremely fake, friendly way. But the King was in a rush, and the trio didn't notice them as they headed for the entryway. It seemed like something was on the King's mind as they continued along the way, all the way until they stepped outside and started down the front steps to the waiting car. That was when, to Henri's surprise, the King clapped him on the shoulder. He glanced at him, confused. "Er…Your Majesty? Is something wrong?"

"Well, yes and no. I have a request for you." He stopped, and Henri did the same, the two men facing each other with the King sighing as he gathered his thoughts. At last, he explained, "According to General Parrish, we have good reason to believe that the Osean forces may be attempting another attack here, on Farbanti. As such, I'm meeting with some military officials to speak about an evacuation and we'll be moving Erusean troops into the city as a precaution. I just want to know that my wife and daughter are in good hands. Should the capital come under attack, I'm trusting you with their lives." The King glanced back at the palace doors, almost longingly. "If the fighting returns to our home then I'm sending my family somewhere safe…that's all I can think to do. And I trust that you'll protect them?"

"Of course, Your Majesty." Henri didn't even want to entertain the thought that the King might doubt his abilities. "I swore long ago to protect yourself and your family, and nothing would ever stop me from doing that. I'd give my life for you. And for Erusea." _Even if I don't agree with the way you've been running things as of late, I would still lay down my life for my country and for its rulers_, he added silently to himself, remaining as composed as ever. Even if it was somewhat unprofessional for him to think of them in any way other than his employers, he considered them his second family. After he lost his own family long ago he had nothing but his work, and the royal family treated him with such kindness that over time he truly grew to care for them. Regardless of his personal opinions, his loyalty would never waver.

The King was satisfied with the answer, and he continued on his way to the car without a word. Henri followed behind with a resolute nod, glancing over his shoulder and allowing his thoughts to drift to Parrish. They weren't so different, both having lost those they cared about. But Parrish sought only to serve himself as a result of his grief, choosing revenge rather than honor. Henri had the best interest of those around him in his mind every day he woke up, or at least he liked to think that he did. No one was truly selfless, although they could try their hardest to put others before themselves. Whatever was coming, and whatever Henri may have to do, he would do to ensure that the royal family was no longer suffering from Parrish's manipulation. _For the King, Queen, and Princess_, he vowed to himself. Again, he repeated under his breath to himself, "And for Erusea."

* * *

**0845hrs.**

Rosa kept her hands clasped together in front of her as she walked along with Parrish, her father having suggested that the two discuss the benefits of drones and the importance of their sovereignty to her as if she was a child in need of schooling. She wouldn't deny that she had been naive, but she was hoping to change that. Normally she would have listened in awe, but now she thought that the conversation — which was rather one-sided, as the former general rarely gave her the opportunity to speak, at least without interruption — was something more akin to brainwashing than actual teaching. But her parents taught her patience, meaning that the young princess was left with nothing more to do than walk along in silence and nod as if she actually was starting to believe what he was telling her. It was all things that she'd heard before, save for him drifting off topic to rant about his Conservative counterparts.

She glanced down at the ground, finding that Leo had abandoned her side a short while ago. Looking back over her shoulder, she found that he had discovered one of his chew toys and chose to flop down in the middle of the hall to play instead of marching along with her. Not that she blamed him. Thankfully, General Parrish was only staying until breakfast, her father having — surprisingly — made him promise that he'd leave by breakfast so he wasn't imposing on Rosa and her mother. Perhaps he knew that Parrish would just prattle on endlessly about the drone production and how well they were doing in the war (lies, all of it, Rosa realized, as well as making war seem like a game he was following) against Osea.

For just a moment, she drifted out of her thoughts to pay actual attention to the General as he spoke. It was like every word was coming out with nothing to stop it, and his voice practically blasted into her ear when she'd actually focused, "…but the Conservatives don't believe that UAVs, or drones in general, are the future. Bunch of foolish old men if you ask me — a few women, too! Technology is always advancing, and they're all simply too close-minded to accept the change and adapt to the new world. With all of the technological advancements we make, more than just soldiers can be working alongside the drones. They could help doctors save more lives, already helping in reducing them. We already have cars, televisions, smartphones…all with endless data and capabilities that make our day to day life easier to live! Why, I wish I'd grown up in such a privileged world. I can only be grateful that I was provided the resources to help it along!"

The topic changed once more, although it caught her attention this time and she paid attention. She didn't know why, but Parrish had a tendency to overshare and she'd learned to listen. For some reason she had a nagging feeling that somehow, she should. "We've finally started production on the new drones for real this time. The ADF-11F is it's name, as you know, but we've taken to calling it the Raven. Ahh…such gorgeous creatures. Real ravens, I mean. Mysterious, intelligent, swift in flight. Perfect namesake for our drones. Not to mention that they're prominent in several different mythologies. Did you know they're capable of mimicry? Even of human speech." He paused, offering a rare smile that actually unnerved Rosa. "But I'm getting off topic. That's one of the reasons that we chose that name. The Raven looks bulky, and it is a massive aircraft, but as you already know, it can read the reactions of its opponents, record the data, and recreate it perfectly all in a matter of seconds. And if push comes to shove, it allows for a human to pilot it. But we doubt that we'll ever need that. We've been developing several new features to hopefully dominate in aerial combat and preserve all the hard earned data it collects if it's ever damaged."

"Really? Like what?" Rosa feigned interest, making her voice higher pitched to seem as innocent and childlike as possible, hoping to get more information out of him. As far as he knew, his apparent brainwashing was working. If she was being honest with herself, learning about the drone itself — even if she didn't understand most of it — was entertaining. She'd rather him talk about the 'Raven' than hear him talk about how much he hated Osea and his political opponents.

Another smile, and his eyes seemed to light up. "Now, that's a good girl. I knew you'd take an interest before long." Rosa faked a smile, something she was getting rather skilled at. Parrish continued, "Well, the Raven is able to detach itself from its wings if it takes any damage and continue flying. This way it can keep the data safe, retreat from the fight quickly, and transfer the data to any suitable source if it really needs to. Once it transmits the data, it won't need a body anymore and it can destroy itself to prevent being captured should someone somehow actually manage such a feat. That's actually our forward thinking at work. We have several factories all over the continent, so many that Osea would never be able to find and destroy them all before things get out of hand for them. If anything goes wrong, the drones are preprogrammed to send out the data to the manufacturers to continue making new drones. It also will regularly transmit newly acquired data to the factories so that the new information and skills can be put to use in the new drones. Basically the drones will continue evolving, without any need for human supervision even though we provide that as a precaution. Long after we're gone, our legacy will continue standing."

Rosa felt a pit in her stomach. That sounded like something out of some of the more morbid novels she'd read before. Machines wipe out the human race, or outlive them and turn the world into some inhospitable place to live. Either that or they take their revenge on the human race, leaving a select few alive to watch their world crumble. She shuddered at the thought of Erusea — her beautiful home — destroyed and darkened because some man told everyone that this was the best future for them. At last, she'd made up her mind. And although she really shouldn't have, she stopped abruptly and rounded on the general, blurting out with more despair than anger, "That's a horrible future! You want destruction to be your legacy? Erusea's legacy? And you pretend as though General Labarthe is the one leading us to ruin. He's the one trying to save us from it! And yet your ego won't allow you to consider that this isn't what the world wants, nor what it needs! If I'd known sooner —"

Just as quickly as Rosa's mood changed, Parrish's changed as well, and he turned a steely glare on her as he interrupted her, "Oh, save your speech you ignorant child! What do you know about what's good for our country? You're barely a real adult! You don't even know what's good for yourself! And here I was thinking that you were beginning to understand again, but apparently that traitor Labarthe has gotten to you more than we thought."

"Traitor?" Rosa's eyes widened, her previous emotion from the outburst diminishing. Her hands fell to her side. "What do you mean 'traitor'?"

Parrish scoffed. "Labarthe is being investigated, and he's almost completely disappeared. We have evidence to believe that he's been communicating with Osea behind the King's back, all while turning you against Erusea and your own father!" He frowned and looked her up and down, causing her to take a step away from him, briefly worried that he'd try and grab her wrist and hold her there like she was some kind of prisoner. With a shrug, he said, "But it doesn't matter, Princess. The world is changing and Erusea intends to win no matter the cost. I'm sure that there are others that are far more suited than you are to assume the throne. Even now, now that you've been manipulated into believing you're more than just a pretty face to win over the hearts of the people, you're already a threat. And all threats have to be eliminated for the good of the kingdom."

She took a step back, and heard footsteps approaching. Both politicians instinctively put on a normal, cheerful expression without any trouble at all, although Rosa knew that her face was probably a little red from her emotional outburst. In fact, she briefly felt her lip tremble as she took a deep breath to calm her emotions. As they turned towards the source, she was greeted by the face of her mother. Although the Queen of Erusea gave a kind smile, there was obvious suspicion in her eyes as she looked between Rosa and the general. Her gaze lingered for a moment on Parrish before she looked to her daughter. "Ah, Rose, there you are. I was just on my way upstairs to get ready for breakfast," her mother explained to her, using an old pet name her mother had given her when she was much younger. It used to embarrass her, but now she was actually relieved to hear it and she let her muscles relax slightly as she heard it. Ever the observant parent, Rosa's mother noticed this. "Is something wrong, love? You look a little out of sorts."

Rosa glanced over at Parrish, who was smiling to maintain his every day 'nice guy' persona as she was starting to call it. However, there was something about the smile that was a warning to her, and Rosa hesitated before finally breaking their eye contact and offering a smile of her own. "Everything's fine, Mother," she lied with ease.

But her mother was no fool, and she narrowed her eyes on her daughter for a moment before declaring, "Oh, I see. Well, then, it might just be a little too hot in here. I'll speak with Mary about adjusting the thermostat." She looked at Parrish, and Rosa saw a barely noticeable flash of disgust across her face as her dignified air slipped for only a moment. Thankfully Parrish didn't seem to notice. "General, I hope that you don't mind our terrible manners, but would you please show yourself to the door? The staff is very busy and I'm afraid that Princess Cossette and I have to head upstairs to make ourselves more presentable." She gestured to the rather un-royal clothes she was wearing; a brown skirt and a pale green blouse. Her hair was frizzing slightly and her face and outfit were both covered in different stains, from flower to what looked like the makings of their lunch for later that day. Rosa, on the other hand, was dressed just fine in her own opinion, but wouldn't argue with her mother's excuse for her.

Parrish gave her a fake look of understanding, respectfully performing a neck bow and holding his hands behind his back. "Of course, Your Majesty. I understand completely, and I thank you and your husband for your time. The Princess, too." His eyes flicked towards her with contempt, but he maintained his cool composure as he bowed to her as well, turning to face her slightly. "I hope you'll think about what we discussed, Your Highness. I wouldn't want to be misunderstood, nor do I wish for you to be misled." He took a breath, sensing both women glaring at him before he started away. "Well, I'll be taking my leave, now. Good day to you both." His expression faltered and Rosa caught her mother watch him go with a smirk on her face.

Once they heard the echo of the palace doors slamming shut from the entryway, Rosa gave her mother a grateful look and visibly relaxed. Without a word, the Queen placed a hand on her back and began to guide her down the hall, towards the staircase so her mother could actually follow through with what she said she would. Checking around to make sure that no one was within earshot, Rosa's mother finally spoke once they reached the top of the recently polished stairs. "So, do you want to tell me what the deal was with Parrish? For a second there I thought the two of you were arguing."

Rosa hesitated again. "It was just a little disagreement. We sorted it out."

That was a lie and her mother, after eighteen years, could easily tell when she was lying even though her daughter had gotten quite skilled at it over the years. "Rosa Cossette D'Elise, I know I didn't teach you to lie to your parents," she said with a stern, authoritative voice. "Now how about you tell me the truth?" Rosa didn't say anything, looking down at her feet as they walked. The Queen sighed, reaching out to place a warm hand on Rosa's cheek, gently tilting her head up again. "Oh, little rose...I have to wonder when that wide-eyed baby girl of mine grew to be such a troubled young woman."

The pair went quiet after that until they reached Rosa's parents' massive bedroom. Rosa entered without giving her mother's statement another thought, taking a seat on the neatly made bed and placing her hands in her lap, slouching and staring down at them. She barely glanced up as she heard her mother shut the door and caught a glimpse of her turning around to face her. Her mother let out another sigh, this one more annoyed than the last for some reason, and she began to walk around the room, picking out her new outfit for the day, and ranting to Rosa about politics as she did. Although Rosa agreed, she felt like she had to keep the information she discussed with Parrish a secret. And the ominous comment about threats to the kingdom. Rosa shuddered thinking back on this.

"Mother..." Rosa began softly once the Queen had finally gone silent for a few moments, no longer going on about how shady politicians were. Both paused and looked up at one another, Rosa unsure where to go from there. She took a moment to think it out, finally deciding that if she felt unsafe then she should tell her mother. Had Henri been there then she'd have told him as well. But he wasn't. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face, looking around before she carefully continued, "…I think that General Parrish might be planning something. He said that General Labarthe was under investigation, and that Labarthe has been manipulating me into being against the drones. But it isn't that I'm against the drones! Now…I think now I'm against this entire war. I'm not saying we give into Osea, but negotiating under peaceful terms would be the more reasonable, responsible thing to do. That way no one has to keep fighting. But Parrish said I'm a threat because I think that."

"Oh, Rosa." Her mother shook her head. "He's only trying to intimidate you. We've known Parrish for ten years. Just like every politician, he's all bark and no bite." Although she said this, there was something close to anger in her eyes if only for a second. By now she was changed out of her clothes and into a modest orange dress. She let her blonde hair down and flipped it over her shoulder, braiding it as she began to pace. "I don't agree with the war either, Rosa. But your father and General Parrish have only Erusea's best interest in mind I'm sure. Before long, all of this will be behind us and nothing more than a bad memory. We can't change their minds, so for now we can only sit by them and keep quiet. Be seen not heard unless they say otherwise."

"Rather outdated approach to things, don't you think?" Rosa scowled, and her mother only shrugged.

"Maybe so, but until you assume the throne it's probably the best option for you," the Queen replied. She finished her hair and crossed her arms, looking down at Rosa for a moment before motioning with one hand. "Sit up straight, child." Rosa did as she was told, straightening up and letting the scowl on her lips even out to form a straight line, her brow still furrowed. Her mother sat down beside her and placed a hand on Rosa's. "Look, Rose. Until you assume the throne, you're expected to obey your father. He's the King. If you want to confront someone, confront your father. But I'd wait for a better time. He's under a lot of stress right now, and I'm afraid your speech didn't do much to help."

"Please stop reminding me…" she said, frowning. Everyone wanted to keep bringing that up, and she'd rather forget that it ever happened. "I'm next in line for the throne, and if the people won't listen to me now then how can I expect them to ever listen?"

"They do listen, Rosa. You're incredibly charismatic and you've won over the public. That's why your father wanted you to handle the press and the public," her mother replied. "But for the time being, people don't want to think that the royal family is going through any drama. It was quite obvious that your sudden change in heart upset your father a great deal." Rosa opened her mouth to protest but her mother cut her off, "Ah — look, I know you're only stating what you believe in, and that's what I taught you to do. But there's a time and a place. And now, at this time, I'd steer clear of General Parrish and try to avoid stepping on his and your father's toes. You and I will just keep our heads down and get through this, hmm? Deal?"

Rosa nodded reluctantly, not really convinced that her mother was taking her any more serious than Parrish had. She offered a small, sad smile. "Deal."

Her mother smiled. "There's my girl. Now how about some breakfast? A lot of eggs today. Eggs Benedict…about three different types of omelets…" Rosa stood up and followed her mother out of the bedroom as her mother continued listing off the menu they had for breakfast, but Rosa's thoughts still weren't put at ease. Something was off about the morning, and it made her feel like something bad was on its way and she might not have these seemingly immature worries.

* * *

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
**1016hrs.**

No one had any idea of the visit from Parrish. Not a single soul. Schroeder kept his head down and maintained his usual composure as the base began to bustle with activity at the start of the day. Massa and Simon both got to work doing whatever he asked them to, Mihaly's granddaughters stayed out of the way, Mihaly's wingmen all tended to their aircraft and spoke of the recent destruction of one of the Arsenal Birds (which had come as some bother to Schroeder), and Mihaly himself took a seat outside the hangar to watch the skies. But a storm was moving in, and dark clouds blocked the usually calming color of blue you'd be able to see. Mihaly didn't seem to be bothered by anything, though, let alone a simple storm.

Schroeder wouldn't mind a little rain either. With it would probably come some cooler weather and relief from the godforsaken heat he had been enduring for some odd five months. He wasn't used to prolonged periods of hot weather, dry or humid. Autumn was on its way and he intended to greet it when it arrived. Unfortunately, being cooped up in a hangar with his work meant he would have little time to enjoy it. None of the pilots would get much of an opportunity either, since he'd begin sending them out more frequently before long. He only had to wait for the arrival of the new and improved suit. Hopefully this would be the last one. No more tweaking, no more failures, no more pain on Mihaly's part.

He looked over at Mihaly and felt a stabbing guilt as he saw him let down his guard only briefly for the sake of his youngest granddaughter. Ionela watched her sister with exasperation as Alma presented a painting she'd done in her free time. Schroeder didn't have a good look at it, but the colors that he could see looked rather good together. He heard Alma cheerfully announce to Mihaly that it was a painting of Shilage Castle, and although Schroeder squinted he could barely see it still and decided to stop trying. To his surprise, Mihaly allowed a small smile and took the painting from her, examining it with an almost impressed nod. He passed it back to her and placed a hand on her cheek before telling her to go play and let him finish his thinking.

The realization hit that if the suit didn't work and he continued to push Mihaly as far as his body would allow, then he could be taking Ionela and Alma's grandfather — and their only guardian — away from them. As far as Schroeder knew, their mother and father were both dead and the only relatives they had were each other and Mihaly. He clenched his jaw, typing something into the computer as he worked to refine the data and transfer it to a chip. He couldn't let himself be distracted. If he did, then Mihaly would almost definitely be doomed. He had to remained focused and unattached like he always was. And yet that nagging, guilty feeling just refused to go away.

"Doctor!" the sound of Simon calling out to him brought Schroeder away from his work and from his thoughts. Almost grateful for the distraction, Schroeder turned around to face the bright, black haired boy running towards him while frantically waving a tablet in his hand. Simon had sharp, angular features, and he was good friends with Schroeder's other assistant. Both of them were still in university, but he had high hopes for them and fully intended for this 'extra credit' assignment to not be a waste for any of them. When the nineteen year old finally came to a stop, he shoved the high-tech electronic tablet towards Schroeder, his brown eyes lit up. Massa approached at a slower pace, having been distracted by the commotion. Simon, while panting, motioned with the tablet. "Lieutenant Fitzgerald…calling you…from Tyler Island…" he managed between sharp breaths.

Massa smirked, clapping him on his back with a rather amused look on her face. "Deep breaths, Simon. Don't hurt yourself." They both looked at Schroeder with curiosity as they waited for him to take the tablet and answer the call.

Schroeder took the tablet from him and looked at the screen, which displayed the EASA logo on a white backdrop. The incoming call was a video call, rather than just voice alone, and the contact name displayed on the screen read Lieutenant Georg Fitzgerald - Tyler Island Contact - Erusean Army. Georg was of Belkan descent like Schroeder, and he was stationed with a mercenary unit in the Erusean military working to take Tyler Island over. The island itself had been home to an Osean penal unit in the southwestern part of the island and throughout most of the war, Osea controlled the land and the airspace. In that time, Erusea had been fighting with Osea in a violent tug-of-war match for control of the island. The fighting had been going on for well over a month, now, and both countries were starting to exhaust their own resources and considering abandoning the island all together.

Georg had actually previously resided on the island before it was taken over by Osea. He sent his family — a wife and two daughters, seven and three, if Schroeder recalled correctly — away from the island but remained with the Erusean forces to continue fighting. Georg himself had been instrumental in their drone production, having designed and put to use the technology they had used to fake IFF designations and declare their mock Osean fighters as allies. It was a cruel trick, but General Parrish had been all over the idea, and most of their military followed suit. That was how former president Harling had been killed, and how the blame was put on an Osean pilot. Georg had refused to speak about the incident afterwards, seeming to take no pride in what he'd created. Schroeder could understand the feeling.

Swiping his finger across the screen, the call answered and a mildly fuzzy image appeared on the screen, getting more and more distorted for a moment and tracking the movement as slowly as it could, frame by frame until all at once with a quick glitch, the live image came to a reasonable quality and allowed the movement without any trouble. A man in his mid-thirties with brown hair and blue-green eyes nervously looked around the structure he was in as some shouting could be heard in the distance. At last he looked back to the screen as his device chimed to let him know that the call had been accepted. He gave a relieved sigh. "_Dr. Schroeder…I'm glad I was able to reach you. Signal out here is pretty good, but with all the bombing and whatnot, I didn't know _how_ good._"

The scientist glanced over at his assistants, then back down at the screen. "We read you loud and clear, Lieutenant. Has something come up?"

Georg took a deep breath. "_Yes and no. A couple of Colonels are trying to set up a meeting between some of Osea's leaders back towards the penal base. We're hoping to withdraw from the island, but it doesn't look like that'll happen any time soon._" He paused for a moment with a heavy sigh before reaching behind the screen to type something into his computer, then picked up a clipboard and looked through some papers. As he skimmed his own work and orders, he spoke to Schroeder, "_I did want to talk to you about these orders from you…we've got a couple of modified Osean aircraft equipped with the A.I. and the flight data from General Shilage, all on standby for the time being. And they have the remote access to the MQ-101s…but after that squadron shot them all down over the Waiapolo Mountains, I don't think it's a good idea to send them in unless it's a last resort._"

"I'm not asking you to send them in, I just want a couple transferred out here as a precaution. We think that Osea is making a move on the capital, and we're rushing production on the new drones. If they find out about this place, we might be left defenseless. That copycat Solo Wing…what're they calling him? Three Strikes?" Schroeder paused and noticed Georg tense up at the mention of the pilots before he gave a slow nod in confirmation. Schroeder continued, "Well, if Osea discovers this facility then we wouldn't stand much of a chance. General Parrish wants me to keep pushing General Shilage, and I don't know how long he can hold up. Speaking of…you looked over the new flight suit design, right?"

He nodded. "I did. It looks like you accounted for everything with it, but if this Three Strikes is really as good as everyone's been saying then I don't think a specialized flight suit is going to be much help." Georg and Schroeder were both realistic about the world around them, but Georg was far more vocal with his doubts and opinions. He looked around again, then seemed to take a moment to examine everything behind Schroeder as if trying to find signs that someone might be listening in. At last, he spoke up again, lowering his voice slightly, "General Parrish contacted us not too long ago. General Labarthe too. I think something bad is on the way. Parrish ordered us not to let up on the fighting and they'd ship us some fresh supplies within the next few days, but Labarthe said to try negotiating a withdrawal from the area. Our own forces had mixed opinions, and some think we should keep fighting. But majority rules and two of our Colonels are working to negotiate a ceasefire at least until we can both get some soldiers that aren't exhausted from fighting."

"You mean that there's some doubt among the ranks?" Schroeder asked. He furrowed his brow, thoughtfully. "That's…interesting. Could be that either of the generals are trying to create division. I've heard that the royal family is even starting to turn on one another, but you can never trust rumors, can you?"

"_No, I suppose you can't. I just don't know how much longer I can put up with this back and forth,_" Georg said with a huff. The blurry figure of a soldier appeared at the entrance of the barracks that Georg resided in, calling out something that Schroeder couldn't understand. Georg responded by turning around, calling back, "_Yeah?_" Another muffled answer came. "_Okay, I'll be over in a minute. Don't let Claude touch anything until I get there!_" He turned back and gave Schroeder an apologetic look. "_I'm sorry to cut this short, but duty calls. I'll see what I can do about sending the UAVs out there, but I can't make any promises. EASA hasn't exactly been our top priority lately._"

"I understand completely," Schroeder said with a nod. "I'll tell you if something else comes up."

"_I'll try and do the same,_" Georg replied. "_Tschüss._" With the goodbye in Belkan, the tablet chimed and the screen froze before reading 'Call Ended' and cutting back to the home screen.

Schroeder set the tablet down, catching the surprised and concerned looks on Simon and Massa's faces. He sighed, having completely forgotten that the two of them were there. "Stay in science where everything is certain," was the only thing they got out of him, and it was enough to satisfy them and get them to return to work. While the three of them went back to their work, Schroeder spent more time looking distastefully at the schematics of the new drones. They were nicknamed the Raven, and as perfectly designed as they were, he knew that they'd bring nothing but destruction. Everyone seemed aware of it, but very few spoke of it as if it was a problem.

Perhaps he was one of the few that actually doubted the efficiency or practicality of the drones. He shook his head to himself as he went back to his work. Maybe he could ask Georg about it, since his fellow Belkan had been having doubts since day one. But right now he had other priorities. He looked over at Mihaly once again and took a deep breath. It wouldn't be hard to convince Mihaly to fly more, but he didn't want the general to get suspicious and refuse to go on any more sorties. If they found out about General Parrish visiting, then there wasn't any telling what they'd do. He tried to push the thought away, securing the data chip in the computer and allowing it to do its thing while he stood, wondering just how deep of a mess he had gotten himself into.

* * *

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
**1434hrs.**

_How'd I get here? I wasn't _that _lost in thought, was I? Instinct, maybe? My s__ubconscious being an ass?_

Tabloid furrowed his brow as he looked up at the aircraft in front of him, practically nose to nose with it. He'd been on a walk, not really feeling up to joining everyone in celebrating the most recent operation. His conversation with Count just a few days before rang in his ears as if it had happened right there in front of him. Trigger and Count were in the action, and Tabloid was stuck by himself with some college kid that was learning to fly and a grouchy, former guard dog and his pet. The only good thing about being out of the action was that he got to spend more time with Avril, but he couldn't help but feel as if what Count had said was true. They didn't want him here, and they didn't need him either.

But that was only half of what he'd been thinking about. Now the thing on his mind was the plane he had apparently wandered to the farthest hangar to visit. The hangar wasn't locked, but only one person had any business being in here to begin with. Solo Wing Pixy and the infamous F-15C that he'd flown through countless battles as the wingman of the Demon Lord. A mysterious squadron led by a mysterious man during a mysterious war. All in all, it seemed pretty fitting. The documentary that got played to death about three times a year shed some light on the 'mystery' of the Belkan War, but most of the motives were defined. Unless it was a cover up. Which it could have been. Belkans weren't exactly known for being straightforward.

Regardless of the politics behind the war, this Eagle had probably seen so much battle and bloodshed. And caused it, too. Well, technically it had just been the object in the situation and the means to do it, not the cause itself. Its pilot controlled it and the pilot was held responsible for the death he played a part in. This thing was old. Older than Tabloid, even, probably pushing thirty years, and yet it still flew like it was brand new. Tabloid should know. He'd faced Foulke in fake fights before. The man was skilled, and his plane had received some serious upgrades to be able to maneuver like it did at the age that it was. By now, you'd expect it to be floating around a scrapyard. He managed a small smile as he wondered what Avril would make of this thing.

He began to walk around it, running his hand along the body of the aircraft. Not a speck of dust and no dents or scratched paint. There was no evidence that this plane had ever seen a real fight, or that it belonged to anyone other than some compulsively clean pilot. The only sign that it belonged to a battle-hardened ace and had ever flown in combat was the red wing that had earned Foulke his popularity. Tabloid wondered how Foulke felt about Trigger using the red wing idea. He seemed okay with it, but Tabloid was a little conflicted on the matter. It wasn't like she hadn't earned it with that time she straight up took a missile for Count, but the wing had come to represent something completely different from simply losing a wing and flying back and landing without further incident. But it wasn't any of his business.

As he circled the fighter, he couldn't help but wondering what it would be like to be in a real, intense dogfight with allies that would actually watch your back. Tabloid had probably earned the title of ace by now, but it didn't feel like anyone else thought the same way. What would happen if he were to just take off and never look back. To fight for himself like Foulke had done. No country, no politics, just him and the sky. And of course his Eagle. He could make a name for himself. Being a mercenary sounded kinda cool, the more that he thought about it. No one to make you feel tied down or less valuable than everyone else. It was appealing, in some way. Theoretically, supposing that you didn't lose sight of the goal and go about it the wrong way, you could help bring the war to an end that way.

_Why would you think something like that?_ Tabloid cursed himself and immediately felt bad for so much as even considering the idea. He glanced down at his boots and frowned, letting out a frustrated sigh. _How could I think about leaving them behind?_ Avril, Trigger, Count, and even Bandog all crossed his mind. Bandog might not miss him, but the others probably would. And why would he sacrifice his friendships just because he couldn't fly? But he wanted it so badly at this point. He felt like they were forgetting about him. They had other priorities, and now that he wasn't in the action any longer…it actually kind of hurt. After surviving Spare Squadron, it felt like they all just forgot about it and moved on. But Wiseman must have had something in mind, or else he wouldn't have agreed to take Tabloid in under his wing. But was Count right after all? Did they only want Trigger? Were they using her as a pawn, or did they genuinely care? Tabloid clenched his fist, but made no move to hit it against the plane. He couldn't bring himself to do it if he tried.

"You got something on your mind, kid? Or do you just really like the plane?"

Tabloid jumped in surprise and took a step back, turning towards the open hangar doors where he saw the owner of the plane standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and a strange, unreadable look on his face. For a moment, he felt himself panic slightly, but once it subsided he was able to put on a rather forced smile and answered the older, more experienced pilot. "Eh, just thinking. Sorry, I guess I got carried away." Foulke narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. He approached him, arms still crossed, and Tabloid shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously, still unsure about the guy. His parents had told him stories about Galm Team, taking into account that they immigrated to Osea just a few months before he was born and his father had kept up with everything that happened in Belka. He felt a familiar stab of guilt as he recalled his own heritage, and swallowed hard, feeling like there was a rock lodged in his throat.

Foulke closed the distance between them, keeping his eyes on his plane as he did. He glanced at Tabloid out of the corner of his eye. "So there is something on your mind. Or someone, maybe?" Tabloid gave him a confused look and shook his head. What…what was he talking about? Foulke shrugged it off. "Eh, probably none of my business, but do you need someone to lend an ear? I'm pretty good when it comes to advice. Mostly. Well, I'm sure some of the people I know would probably tell you otherwise, but they're just jealous if you ask me. Sooo…what's the matter?"

He debated whether or not he should bring it up or not. He barely knew Trigger's dad, and he didn't know if he wanted to risk trusting him or not. Should he? The guy had given McKinsey a nice punch to the face. It had been satisfying, and he wasn't actually all that bad, but what was with the prompting? Tabloid shook his head and looked around nervously. "Uh, well it's not really a big deal," he lied. Truth was, it was eating him up and it was clear to see that. Count was the fraud, not him. He couldn't lie even if he wanted to. Foulke seemed to realize this, but didn't say anything. Tabloid continued. "I'm kind of curious about something though…either before or after you…y'know, defected from your unit and all that…did you ever feel like you were overshadowed by your flight lead? Like no one recognized what you had to bring to the table?"

Clearly taken aback by the answer, Foulke blinked and thought about the question for a moment. At last, he seemed to find the right words. "Well, that all depends. Before, I already had a pretty good reputation. Everyone expected me to do a good job and I like to think that I didn't disappoint them. When Cipher — the Demon Lord, that is — came along, I thought he was a pretty good guy. In fact, he was better than any of us expected. But it was always a team effort," he explained. Tabloid felt somewhat disappointed, but didn't let it show. Another pause and then Foulke went on to say, "After I defected, I guess things kind of changed. I did what I thought was the right thing, but history is always going to remember me as the villain and Cipher as the hero. Or they'll just forget all about me and only remember the great Galm 1 saving the world. It doesn't change our friendship any, but I guess it kinda bugs me a little bit."

"Oh…yeah, I can get that," Tabloid admitted, almost embarrassed that he brought it up to begin with. He scratched the back of his head and glanced around.

"I feel a little guilty, if I'm being completely honest," Foulke said with a shrug, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the faded, brown leather jacket that he was wearing. Tabloid raised an eyebrow, curious for him to continue. It didn't take long. "I mean, my buddy ended the war. I would have ended a lot more than that, and none of it would have been good. In a way, maybe I'm happy that I don't get any of the credit for ending the war. Because if I had, then it wouldn't have been worth the cost. Fame isn't worth much in the end." He eyed Tabloid curiously and it was his turn to ask a question. "What's with the question? Are you feeling left out with Naomi and Count getting to go off on sortie?"

"Eh, kind of." Tabloid shifted nervously again. It felt weird. "I guess I'm just upset that I don't get to share in whatever they have going on. In Spare Squadron, Count was the closest thing to a friend that I had before Trigger came along. And then when she did, it kind of gave everyone a real reason to fight. I mean, here was this girl that we thought killed Harling and yet she outdid just about everyone in the air. Even Count's kind of taken by her, has been from the start, but he'll never admit it." Tabloid was aware of Trigger's father studying him as he spoke. He looked up at the plane again to try and push it out of his mind. "Anyways, it gave me and Count a reason to fight and it was kind of the three of us from then on out. A fraud, an anarchist, and a murderer. I mean, talk about a ragtag bunch, eh? They're my friends, and I thought I wouldn't see them again after the 444th became legit, but then I got sent here and had another chance to fly with them. Now I'm stuck on the ground…a part of me wants to just request a discharge or something and go home, but…"

"But you don't want to leave your friends behind?" Foulke finished for him.

Tabloid, still feeling a little uncomfortable with the topic, said, "Well, yeah." He chuckled slightly as he recalled his motto. "In Spare Squadron, Trigger was sort of like our good luck charm. I had this wild theory that if we stuck with Trigger during the tough battles, then we'd all make it out alive. And it actually worked. I've made it this far thanks to her, and I owe it to my friends to stick around. To actually stick with Trigger like I said I would. But how can I do that when I'm stuck on the ground, missing out on an opportunity to be something more than what I've been since this stupid war started. I want it to end, but I want to help it end however I can and if that means fighting then I want to do that. But I want to be beside my friends when I do."

"I get the feeling." Foulke seemed to have some look about him all of a sudden, as if he could understand it a lot more than he was letting on. After sitting in an awkward silence for a moment, he clapped Tabloid on the shoulder, startling him. "Well, I can't promise anything, but let's see how you do in a little assessment. Maybe I can put in a word with Wiseman and we'll see about it. Like I said, no promises, but go suit up and I'll speak with Hawkins to get the flight authorized and then we can get going. What do you say? Give it a shot?"

"Well, I guess it's a start." Tabloid gave a small smile. It was a nice gesture, but without a guarantee, it didn't solve the issue. He knew that he should just make the best of it and not complain. So that's exactly what he did. He still couldn't help but wish things would change, and yet after all of this, there was some kind of hopeful feeling. Like things just might be changing soon enough. Good or bad change, though, how was he supposed to know? He could only keep his fingers crossed and pray it was good.

* * *

**1558hrs.**

Naomi and the other pilots all made their way down the hall at HQ, towards the briefing room. Wiseman and Commander Hawkins had told them that they had something urgent going on and to report to HQ right away, so everyone except for Fencer, Tailor, and Jaeger came along (though they were informed that they'd be filled in separately). Naomi noticed that Tabloid was trailing behind, looking uncharacteristically depressed, which was even more odd since she heard that he'd done well during the practice dogfight they did earlier that day. But while everyone else was talking, he was surprisingly quiet, and Naomi recalled Avril and Count mentioning something about him being a little left out with Wiseman keeping him back at base. Naomi wasn't quite sure what to do about it, though. And right now, she was too busy wondering what had been so important that it required their immediate attention. Especially after they were promised a day off after chasing down those IRBMs.

"So, Fencer still hasn't recovered?" Count asked them all after Húxiān mentioned one of their missing comrades being stuck on base. Naomi knew for a fact that those two weren't exactly the best of friends. Both of them had high opinions of themselves, and it conflicted with their work a lot. She couldn't help but think that they were a little jealous of one another in more ways than one, but she didn't say anything. Admittedly, she'd be more than a little hurt if Count replaced her with Fencer as his rival in the skies. But she and Tabloid were like his partners in crime. There was no way that he'd give up their longstanding competition. Worse case scenario was that he included Fencer in the contest, but Fencer was a bit more…refined for that.

"Actually, he has," Lanza answered Count's question with a shrug as they drew closer to the door. "A lot faster than expected, too. But the doctor won't let him fly."

"Ha!" Count let out a chuckle, smirking slightly as he picked up the pace of his walking to flank Naomi when they reached the door. "Guessed as much." He reached forward and slipped in front of Naomi, pushing down on the doorknob to enter first and then holding it open for the others to follow. One by one they filed in, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness. The screen was already on, the curtains closed, and the lights shut off. As usual, a 3D map displayed the Usean continent, highlighting the Erusean occupied territory and the Osean occupied territory. Count let out a short whistle, squinting for a moment as his eyes adjusted. "Jeez. I guess we're late to the party and they started without us."

"Hope they buck the trend for whatever mission they're sending us on," Naomi huffed as she looked around. With a frown, she added. "And here I was hoping that we'd actually get the day off. Like promised." To be fair, they had been warned to be on high alert in case something came up. But right now she just wanted to go and watch a movie or something with a thing of popcorn and some soda. A rare treat, and here were the plans she had, going to complete and total waste. She had another thought, and so did everyone else, as they were grinning, but none of them got an opportunity to say something as they noticed the unexpected visitor standing next to the screen.

The man was tall, slightly older in appearance. He was at least in his mid to late forties, with blond hair that was quite obviously gelled in order to stay in place. Naomi thought that, in some places, it was turning white from his age, but it might have just been the glow from the screen. Clothing-wise, he didn't look like a soldier, dressed in a dark blue suit and tie with a simple name tag clipped to his breast pocket with a name and rank on it. It was clear that he was rather impatient, wearing a cross look on his face and checking his watch as he roughly tapped his foot on the floor. Wiseman was more patient than Naomi was, looking on with a blank expression. Her father stood nearby, clearly biting his tongue and not a big fan of their guest. "How much longer are you going to make me wait?!" demanded the newcomer.

All of the pilots exchanged confused and annoyed looks with one another before taking their seats. Naomi sat down between Count and Tabloid, and Lanza and Skald sat on Count's other side with Húxiān taking a seat beside Tabloid. Húxiān scoffed and leaned towards the others to ask what just about everyone was wondering, "Anybody know who the self-important stiff is?" All of them smiled and had to stop themselves from laughing at the stranger's expense. Wiseman and Naomi's father's eyes both flicked towards them at the sudden, suspicious commotion and they all tried to wipe the smiles off their faces. Even Tabloid seemed to cheer up slightly at the comment.

Skald, although smiling still, hissed at their friend, "Shh! He'll hear!"

"And if the rumor I heard is true, then he really is quite important," Lanza seconded.

Any other jokes and comments were silenced with that as they gave the three men standing up front their full attention. Once Wiseman was satisfied that no further disturbances would come from his men, he pressed some keys on the computer and a live video feed popped up. It was a surprisingly high quality display, and there wasn't any lag at all as the man in the video adjusted something. Naomi couldn't figure out his age, but he wasn't very old. He was dark skinned, with curly black hair and barely noticeable facial hair. It wasn't just well groomed scruff like Count had, and it wasn't a full on beard like Tabloid once had (and was growing back for some reason). It was really just…there. He wore a white dress shirt and had a pair of glasses. All in all, he seemed a little nervous and awkward by the entire ordeal, looking around the screen as if observing everyone that was present. He glanced over at Wiseman and their guest and nodded. "We're connected. Ready now, sir."

The video shrunk away as the screen zoomed in on the southern part of the continent. Their well-dressed visitor straightened his tie and then his name tag as he looked at the LRSSG pilots with an irritated sigh. "Well, now that you're all here, I suppose that I can get on to introductions," he said to them. "I'm Brigadier General Howard Clemens. And it seems I have the honor of being in charge of this operation." Something told Naomi that he wasn't too impressed by what he saw, which was a change of pace from everyone usually piling praise on top of them. Naomi wasn't sure whether she liked it or hated it. This guy just seemed like a smug, pretty-boy version of Bandog that actually hated them. There was definitely something…off about him. Glancing around at the others, she wondered what they thought of it.

As the screen closed in on a specific point, Naomi recognized the location instantly, remembering the operation they'd had to the same area. And the name that popped up confirmed what she thought. She didn't know if she should be excited to see the name again. It didn't exactly bring back fond memories, but the battleground would probably be somewhere they were familiar with. Clemens nodded to the screen as a pair of pictures popped up. "Our objective is to capture an advanced submarine in harbor at Artiglio. The port of Artiglio and the surrounding oil facilities were mostly destroyed by another air operation."

"Oh, that port," Tabloid said as the realization dawned on him. "Huh. Never thought I'd see it again, and honestly I didn't really want to."

"You know, that seems like such a long time ago. Hard to think it was just a little over a month ago, eh Trigger?" Count asked, shaking his head as he recalled what little of the operation he'd actually been present for. Naomi wasn't upset about it anymore, and he had learned his lesson, but they weren't really memories that she wanted to bring back. He took notice of the somewhat agitated look on her face. Almost concerned, he asked her while nudging her slightly, "Hey, Trig, you alright there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Naomi replied with a shrug, hoping to push back the memories. "Just dredging up ancient history, really."

"Wait, you guys have been there?" Skald asked them.

All three of them nodded and Naomi explained, "Yeah, we were the squadron that cleaned the place out. First half was easy, but this giant freaking sandstorm showed up and we had to fly through it. Talk about intense." She shuddered, recalling how frustrating that battle was. "I definitely don't recommend doing that. Not good on the nerves."

Clemens cleared his throat. "However, Erusean forces repaired the facilities under our noses and use them to resupply and maintenance a giant submarine," he said to them.

The video feed man, who had been quiet all this time, spoke up and the screen expanded slightly so that they could see his face. "Here's a question. How long do you think this submarine is?" Everyone paused and looked around in confusion. They were fighter pilots, and estimating the size of a target should be something they were good at, but caught off guard by the question and without a proper reference to go off of they were all drawing a blank. He didn't seem to mind, though, and eagerly answered his own question as if he was the host of some trivia quiz or documentary, "If you guessed 495 meters, you're right!" The screen displayed a bright, light blue model of the submarine, rotating it so they could get a good look at its appearance while general information popped up. Their new friend went on, "It also has a width of 116 meters and a submerged displacement of 810,000 tonnes."

The model flipped around to the back, highlighting what powered it. "It's a super-sized nuclear submarine powered by two liquid metal cooled reactors."

Naomi crossed her arms, mildly impressed. "Well, I guess it really is huge. Seeing it in person must be terrifying." Everyone murmured in agreement. After a short pause, Naomi glanced at her father and Wiseman before nodding to the man explaining the submarine to them. "So, who's the quiz show host?"

They looked to the screen as he answered her question, almost excitedly. "David North, ma'am. I'm an Osean Intelligence Agency — or OIA — analyst from Advanced Weapons Analysis. It's a privilege to be speaking to you right now. I've heard a lot about you, Three Strikes. Or do you prefer Solo Wing like your father?" Her wingmen all looked to her with impressed looks on their faces at David's mention of her, and even her father chuckled slightly and looked over his shoulder at her.

Naomi ignored it, though, not wanting to draw attention to that at the moment. She looked around at her superiors and even towards the screen with David's face on it, having only one more question, "Okay, so it sounds like he's helping us on the operation. If that's the case, then why isn't he here?"

"Because he doesn't need to be," Wiseman replied with a small smile. "He can perform his analysis at his home office."

Naomi's father chuckled. "Yup. We've got ourselves an armchair detective. Wish our job was that comfortable," he said with a grin that Wiseman shared.

Even David smiled at the comment. Clemens, on the other hand, was not impressed, and began to impatiently tap his foot again. Wiseman must have noticed the general's annoyance, as he quickly nodded toward David and ordered in a more serious tone, "Continue."

David paused only for a moment before he did as Wiseman said, smiling as he did. His eyes even lit up as he got more into the explanation. "I've come to call this super-submarine 'the Alicorn'," he said to them as the screen continued to circle the model. "The Alicorn is a submarine…and yet it can stage aircraft operations like a carrier." The model zoomed on the nose, highlighting a runway, complete with a catapult and everything. Just like a regular carrier. The screen then continued down the hull until it reached the midsection, and two boxes appeared on either side. "It also boasts some serious firepower with its two main railguns. Their range is over 400 kilometers." The model shrunk as it was zoomed out, and it showed four directions, stretching out 400 kilometers each to display the weapons' range. "The sub's force projection capabilities are equivalent to a carrier strike group. Furthermore, it can approach underwater or use aircraft and railguns to attack outside the enemy's — that's us, for anyone wondering — range."

"Sounds like a real monster if there ever was one," Tabloid muttered in dread as his blue eyes narrowed in on the screen.

"You guessed it, Lieutenant Hartmann. Fall in the wrong hands, this thing is a real beast. It's basically a modern day sea monster," David replied, and he ignored the surprised look on Tabloid's face at the fact that he knew his name. He continued, "It has an…unusual history, befitting such a ship. It was launched four years ago. However, it went MIA on a sea trial after being outfitted." The screen showed several news articles next to the model, and it looked as though David was the one scrolling through them as he spoke. "It was later found at the bottom of the ocean entirely by chance. Of the 356 crewmen, only 330 were rescued. Here's another quiz question for you. For how many days was the Alicorn underwater? The answer: it was 698 days."

"Whoah," Lanza said, blinking in shock.

"They were down there two years?" Count balked. "God…I can't imagine how awful that was."

"I can…" Naomi added in a dark tone, shivering slightly. She hated cramped spaces, she hated feeling trapped, and she hated the idea of being trapped underwater. There were several times she'd imagined 'what if' scenarios in her head. That was exactly why she hadn't chosen the Navy. The air was safer and you knew everything it would throw at you. The ocean? You never knew when it or something in it decided it wanted to kill you. Join the Navy and you're at the sea's mercy. Not a pleasant thought at all.

"It probably was pretty awful. They were on the sea floor, at 15 degrees," David explained.

"So why are they deploying it to the front lines now?" Skald asked as the screen zoomed through the Alicorn model and back to the Usean continent.

"Well, I suspect it has something to do with the loss of an Arsenal Bird and the IRBM cluster," the analyst replied with a shrug, glancing to Naomi and Count. He must have known that they were the ones that chased down the missiles.

Lanza had a thoughtful expression for a moment, but it turned to a relaxed, almost turning it to a bored one within just a few seconds. "Huh. Okay, so we just blow up the damn thing?"

Clemens spoke up again, quickly rising from the seat he had taken and turning on the pilots. "We capture it," he snapped at them with a rather pissed off look on his face, raising a finger as though he was speaking to a bunch of children. "If you'd been listening then you'd have realized this. Don't make me repeat myself!" Naomi, Count, and Tabloid all looked at one another, thinking the same thing. This guy reminded them of McKinsey. Naomi glared at him, as did everyone else, but Wiseman sent them a warning glare that made sure no one spoke against Clemens. The annoying general went on without giving it another thought, "We've had reports from local sources that there are weapons of mass destruction aboard the Alicorn."

"Source?" David echoed curiously.

"If we can secure that evidence, we'll gain advantage in the peace negotiations post war," Clemens went on, ignoring him. The screen now showed several allied and hostile blips facing one another head on in the waters outside of Artiglio, marking the Alicorn among the cluster. To Naomi, it looked like they were seriously outnumbered. Erusea had as many fighters as possible to cover their precious submarine. Wiseman took over the briefing, if only for a moment, and informed them, "The Osean Navy has dispatched a fleet including a landing ship to capture the Alicorn. Our mission is to secure air superiority and protect this assault-and-capture task force." Clemens nodded. "If we take too long, they'll scuttle the sub. The fleet will commence its actions while we seize the skies." _You mean while you sit around and do nothing and the _real _soldiers seize the skies_, Naomi corrected in her head. She didn't like or trust this guy. He was way too much like McKinsey.

"Wouldn't it be risky to send the fleet in before we've secured air superiority?" Count asked him, seeming genuinely concerned by it.

"That is none of your concern, Lieutenant O'Connor." Clemens glared at him, but Count didn't shrink under the cold stare and instead returned it, lifting his chin defiantly.

"Actually, since we're the ones providing this cover, it is our concern," Naomi challenged, keeping an even tone but adopting a rigid, tense and defensive posture. "We're outnumbered. Significantly. We'll be spread out too thin over a large battlefield. There's no way that we can guarantee the entire fleet's safety."

"If you aren't good enough to do that, then you should rethink your career and stop boasting, Captain Foulke. Remember, we can take that shiny promotion of yours away," Clemens answered. Naomi gritted her teeth.

It was Tabloid that spoke next, doing a worse job of keeping his cool than Naomi had done. The tone he used was extremely accusing. "But you're basically putting our fleet in danger for your own political games. You can't expect us to just roll over and take that lying down, can you?"

Everyone else agreed with the statement, and Naomi saw her father look expectantly at Clemens for an answer. But it took a moment for him to respond. He looked around at them, even giving Wiseman a glare as he said, "They should have taught how to address your superiors in bootcamp." Clemens' eyes centered on Tabloid, Naomi, and Count and there was a small smirk that played at his lips as he added with a sneer, "Or in the penal unit."

Count tensed at that and made a move like he was going to stand up and march over to Clemens to give the guy a piece of his mind, but Naomi quickly grabbed his forearm to stop him. Skald grabbed his other arm just in case he still tried to make a move for the general. He looked around at them, then made eye contact with Naomi for a moment before reluctantly plopping back into his seat and grumbling an apology. Before things could get out of hand, Wiseman quickly jumped in, giving them another 'watch it' look before sending a more apologetic look Clemens' way. "Er — An EW squadron will be deployed. Their ESM will be a valuable asset. Stay within their range and you'll have a significant advantage over your enemies. The ETA for the EW aircraft is the same as H-hour."

"Oh. And only Strider Squadron will sortie," Clemens told them. Strider Squadron's emblem appeared on the screen, followed by the ID photos of those on the current roster. Naomi, Count, Skald, and then Húxiān. Well, there was a first time for everything, including different formations.

"Woah, wait a minute. I have to sit this one out?" Lanza asked, looking at Skald in desperation and disappointment. His best friend gave him a smug grin which earned Skald a hard slap to the shoulder.

"Yeah, that happens a lot around here," Tabloid said with a huff. "Better get used to it, Lanza."

Húxiān's jaw dropped and she looked over at Naomi uncertainly and with some nervousness that likely had to do with Naomi's less than favorable track record. She wasn't entirely bothered by it, only somewhat hurt by the question that followed. "Wait, Wiseman, you're not coming?!" It almost seemed like anxiousness in some ways. Naomi didn't blame her. In fact, Húxiān probably had a very good reason behind it. Maybe she'd never flown a mission without Wiseman. Maybe he was her good luck charm like Naomi had been to Spare Squadron and still seemed to be to Tabloid and the others.

Wiseman shook his head, his arms crossed. He had a look of understanding on his face. "I'll be assisting the brigadier general here at HQ."

Clemens rolled his eyes as the system began to shut down. "This is by no means a difficult mission. Your squadron commander's absence shouldn't change that." The computer shut off and the lights came back on. "That's all. Dismissed." The brigadier general himself marched out just as he said goodbye to David and ended the video call. Naomi felt bad for David, in all honesty, having witnessed that little disagreement. It wasn't as if it was the worst interaction with a superior officer, but this guy just rubbed Naomi the wrong way. She watched Clemens leave with a blank expression, trying to think about what his problem could be.

She only turned away from watching the door when she felt someone brush against her shoulder. Turning slightly, she saw that Count had taken up a position behind her on account of the fact that they were still standing in the middle of the row of chairs. Their wingmen all stood up and shouldered their way out to talk in a less cramped place. Naomi, however, made no move to follow, still wondering if she should be suspicious or not. Count must have picked up on this, and what he said next confirmed that she wasn't the only one with doubts about the guy. "Somethin' seems off about him to you too, huh?" Count asked her, keeping a quiet voice so that Wiseman wouldn't overhear.

Naomi nodded, crossing her arms. "I just can't put my finger on it. Maybe I just don't like him because of his attitude, I dunno. I wasn't a fan of that jab about the penal unit, though. I could tell you and Tabloid weren't either." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes. More and more, she just wanted a break. And they hadn't even gone to work yet. Too much stress and concerns for one evening. "Maybe I'm just paranoid because of McKinsey. Prison's probably…warped my brain or something..."

Count gave her a look of reassurance, and to her surprise actually put his hand on her other shoulder as if he was going to bring her in for a side hug, but after a moment of hesitation he simply gave her a pat on the shoulder and then pulled his arm back. "I know what you mean. So, for the time being, why don't we just not talk about our time in the penal unit, huh? It's depressing." With that, he carefully inched his way around her until he was freed from the row of chairs and joined the others in conversation. Tabloid still seemed upset, and he said something to Count that Naomi couldn't hear, but it was clear that he was starting to get a little antsy being stuck on the ground for so long.

Pushing Clemens out of her mind, she focused on her new idea and made her way to the front of the room to join her father and Wiseman. The two older, more experienced pilots didn't notice her approaching at first, and she heard Wiseman make a comment about 'keeping an eye' on someone. She wondered, however briefly, if they meant who she thought they did, but when her father noticed her, both of them cut their conversation short and immediately turned to face her. Wiseman greeted her with a nod. "Hey there, Trigger. You need something? I figured you'd be taking the rest of Strider out to the hangars to get started on your pre-flight checks or something."

"Actually…" she glanced over at Tabloid and gave a tired smile. "Actually, I want to ask you a favor. Do you think Tabloid could fly in Skald's place?"

Wiseman furrowed his brow, considering the request. "Well, I don't know about that." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "I haven't worked with him and Tailor recently, so I wouldn't know how much they've improved if any at all." With that, Wiseman looked over to her father and asked him, "What do you think? Is Tabloid ready for a real operation with Strider, you think? Give 'im a chance to stretch his wings a little, get used to the Eagle in a real fight?"

Naomi looked over at her father, who was watching Tabloid with a look that she couldn't quite understand. At last, he shrugged. "If you want him flying with you, then that's your choice. And it wouldn't be a bad one. He's got good skills, he's smart, has great reflexes. He doesn't fly on emotions and seems to leave his problems on the ground for the most part, and he doesn't question orders unless he has a hell of a good reason," her father said quickly. "And there's something else about him, too. Either way, he's a loyal kid. I think we could give him a chance. Might help whatever weird mood he's in all of a sudden."

"That's what I was thinking." Naomi looked over at them, then gave a grateful smile to Wiseman and her father. "Thanks, guys. Now, if you'll excuse me, we have some serious ass to kick tomorrow and I intend to be ready." Both of them laughed and shared an exasperated look as she left them to rejoin the others. They all looked over at her as she approached, and Naomi stepped between Count and Tabloid — the two of them were standing side by side and speaking with Húxiān — and wrapped her arms around both of them. "Well, boys, y'all up to giving Erusea a hard time tomorrow? Pretty sure that me and Húxiān are."

Tabloid gave her a puzzled look, so did everyone else. Skald stepped forward. "I thought I was flying with Strider tomorrow. Are they sending us up with five instead?"

She shook her head, wiping away a grin to allow her expression to soften. "No, we're still flying with four. But if it's alright with you, Skald, I want Tabloid to fly number three. I'd say it's about time he got his time to shine, wouldn't you?" Naomi let go of Tabloid, freeing him from the 'hug' or 'huddle' or whatever she'd caused. He stared at her with both confusion and gratitude written on his face as he started to smile, and his mood had a complete shift.

She grinned, letting Count slip away to ruffle Tabloid's hair. "Hey! There he is!" Count said with a chuckle as Tabloid swatted him away. That didn't deter him in the slightest. "That's the optimistic, sickeningly cheerful Tabloid that we all know and love!"

"Ack — Count, lay off, would ya?" Tabloid asked him, although there wasn't much hostility in the way he'd said it. Count did go quiet, standing beside him with a smirk on his face. "You…you're sure about this? Everyone's okay with it?" He looked between Naomi and Skald, but ultimately it was Skald that needed to be okay with it.

After a moment of consideration, Skald shrugged. "Eh, why not?" he said. "Besides, someone has to keep an eye on Lanza while I'm away." Lanza rolled his eyes at that, but the others laughed at it.

Húxiān, on the other hand, was not as sure of it. She looked between the three of them, seeming mistrusting on them. It looked as though she didn't want to fly with ex-cons, and granted, none of them had a perfectly clean record. But as if she remembered the debt she thought she owed them from when Spare Squadron provided cover in Yinshi Valley, she took a deep breath and relaxed, most of her nervousness seeming to dissipate. She looked to Naomi. "Alright, then, Captain. What's our plan for tonight?"

"Hangars first. Avril and Bandog could use a helping hand," Naomi replied as she led the way out of the room and to the open door. "Then the mess hall. After that, everybody's going to call it a night. I want us at the top of our game tomorrow. Any complaints?" Everyone shook their heads and confirmed that they heard her as they set off to the hangars. Although Naomi seemed to have it all thought out, the truth was that she was nervous. So much so that it was everything that she could do not to shake. She couldn't help but feel like they were going in blind. There was no telling what could happen out there and they had no idea just what might be in store for them.

* * *

Author's Note: _Well the last half of this chapter did not want to be written at all, but I finally got it done._

_As you could probably guess, this means that I will indeed be writing for the DLC missions because I think it could add to the story, if not for the fact that it gives me an opportunity to squeeze in some extra character development. So starting from here and the next chapter, the next two chapters won't be released until maybe early November, and then one at the end of November, so I'm going to be taking a break until the next mission releases._

_Spoilers are ahead, to warn everyone who has not had a chance to play the mission for themselves yet._

_Also, our new bad guy is apparently as memeable as Pixy is…with the way that he obsesses about his crisp white sheets, though, I can't really fault people for it. But, that's what V2 is for, I suppose. Solo Meme Pixy/The Meme Lord of the Round Table (hey, he deserves a menacing title too) shall not be defeated that easily!_

_Well, pardon my randomness and I hope that you enjoy the double update! :)_


	28. Sighthounds

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sighthounds

|…|…|…|

**Artiglio Port, Usea.**  
_**September 4th, 2019.**_  
**1455hrs.**

|…|…|…|

Strider Squadron soared over the fleet, the familiar roaring of their four engines felt in their own chests as they neared the port. It was a cloudy day, and the port didn't look at all like how Naomi remembered. When they'd been there with Spare Squadron it had been a bright, sunny day for the most part. Well, except for that sandstorm that got in the way. But the past was in the past, now, and they had a new battle to deal with today. At least now they were free. Naomi quickly radioed the captain of the fleet's flagship — the _Puffin_ — and announced that Strider Squadron was entering the AO before she addressed her own squadron. Count and Tabloid flanked her in the formation, with Húxiān covering Tabloid's wing, and they were close enough together that Naomi could see all of them if she craned her neck. "Alright, we're gonna be outnumbered even with the allied squadron that they're sending in. We're gonna hit 'em hard and fast. Got it?"

"Righto!" Count confirmed, and the others sounded off after him. After a pause, he asked his wingmates, "Before we get started, anyone up for some friendly competition? I'll even throw in a prize." He paused to see if anyone would object. No one did, and they all waited for him to tell them what the prize was. He quickly continued, "I've got about two hundred zollars in cash. One with the highest score, gets the money. Plus fifty bucks from everyone. So, that means that the overall prize amounts to about three-fifty. Y'all in?"

Tabloid chuckled as he replied with, "Eh, why not? I could use the money."

Naomi paused for a moment, considering the offer. It had been a while since she'd taken part in a kill competition. She remembered taking part in them with Boggard and Footpad, but in Spare Squadron there wasn't ever much of a reward. But it would make an otherwise stressful situation a little more positive, and there wasn't any harm in it the more she thought about it. Although Wiseman didn't agree with the idea of competing for the highest number of 'kills', Wiseman wasn't here. She was going for it. "It'll certainly spice things up for a change. You're on, Count, although I think that it's a little unfair at this point, since we all know who's gonna be getting the top score."

"Huh, someone's awfully cocky today. Starting to sound too much like me," Count replied with a chuckle. "You're lucky I'm letting you compete, Trigger. Just don't cheat and we'll be cool."

"Ha! Righto!" Naomi teased, stealing his own, favorite catchphrase, glancing towards her wing and at his plane. Húxiān didn't answer, but something close to a low, irritated growl could be heard over the radio. _Somebody doesn't approve_. For the first time ever, she found herself somewhat annoyed with the only other woman in the squadron. They weren't particularly close, but she could still trust Húxiān to follow orders regardless. Maybe she should make an effort to get to know the others better. But now wasn't the time to do it. They were closing in fast. Several enemy squadrons appeared on radar and on their HUDs. Naomi took a deep breath and called out, "Alright everyone, looks like we've got a furball on our hands. Get ready."

"Here we go!" Count said through what sounded like a grin. This was supposed to be an easy, straightforward mission after all. Much better than the ones they'd had recently. He called out to the other former Spare member as they all raised their noses and hit the afterburners, gaining altitude. "Yo! Tabloid! How ya feelin' buddy?"

"Glad to be back in the air!" Tabloid replied, sounding just as pumped up as Count did. Naomi's adrenaline was starting to kick in too as her 'battle instincts' started to kick in. Their friend suddenly let out a laugh and added, "Let's see how this thing handles in a fight. Do it with a bang, right?"

Unfortunately, they had to hold off on their attack for a minute. The enemy was right in front of them, and it wouldn't be long before they were within range to attack, but the order to engage had to come from HQ and then likely through Long Caster. Naomi was pretty sure that Wiseman and that shifty brigadier general were actually aboard the AWACS plane, but Long Caster had taken off long before Strider Squadron had so she didn't see who got aboard. She was pretty sure that it was the case, though. Within just a second, Wiseman's voice came over the radio, "Understood. Shit!"

Confused by Wiseman's apparent anger and ready for a fight, Naomi furrowed her brow and considered easing up on the engines until they found out what was wrong (and something obviously was). Instead, as they continued on their way, she quickly asked, "What's up? Is something wrong?"

It was Long Caster that answered the question. "Afraid so, Strider 1. Friendly aircraft and EW aircraft will arrive five minutes late."

"What?!" Húxiān demanded, and her aircraft slowed a little, trailing behind the squadron as if she wasn't sure about engaging any longer. Tabloid followed, slowing enough to separate the squadron from its formation and leaving Naomi and Count the only ones heading right for the enemy.

"Retreat and wait for backup!" Wiseman ordered quickly. Naomi bit her lip. Not how she imagined the operation going. They hadn't even started the fight yet and now they were being told to just abandon the fleet? And their backup was late? Something wasn't right about this.

She was about to pull out with Strider Squadron, maybe fly down to the fleet and fend off anybody that tried to attack them, but that wouldn't do any good. She and Count slowed enough to form back up with Tabloid and Húxiān, but she didn't have an opportunity to echo the retreat order before Clemens snapped into their ears, "Retreat not authorized! Do your jobs and gain air superiority at once! Disobey and you can kiss your jobs goodbye. Attack!"

Naomi clenched her jaw, not sure what she would do. She didn't want to follow Clemens' orders, but they were right there. Retreating now, when they had plenty of ammunition and no damage, would make them nothing more than cowards. But something wasn't right. The support should have been there. Why was it going to be late? She hesitated for a second and the others picked up on this, which wasn't a good thing. "Trigger!" Count got her attention and kept her from getting too lost in debating what to do. They needed her to make a decision now, otherwise they'd be easy targets. "What now? We doing this or not?"

Not wanting to waste another second, Naomi quickly picked up speed again and readied herself to fire at the lead plane in a squadron of Hornets. As soon as she got a lock, the three aircraft pulled up and over her. Naomi rolled before pulling her fighter into a vertical climb and then twisting around to level out behind the enemy. "Strider Squadron, engage! We're diving into the fireworks!" she ordered, firing a pair of missiles at the lead plane as soon as she got a lock. They hit the engine, and the pilot and his WSO was forced to eject as the fighter spiral out of control and then burst into flames. "Strider 1, splash one hostile!"

"Trigger's already kicked off the game!" Count said with a laugh as he and the remaining members of Strider fanned out to jump on their own targets.

"Guess we're going in then," Húxiān said, but there wasn't any hesitation or annoyance that Naomi could pick up on. "After Trigger!"

Missile warnings began to go off in Naomi's ear as she began to pursue aircraft after aircraft, downing the Hornets and moving on to the F-22s that were trying to take shots at her from the side, attempting to hit and run. She was fully intending to run up the score, and she kept track of each aircraft that went down. For the first time, being at close range with the enemy aircraft, she realized just how many actually had a chance to eject. Some she didn't see a chute from, but she tried to avoid concerning herself with that in the heat of the moment. The sky was streaked with white and black from missile trails and smoke from fallen aircraft, and Naomi quickly checked to make sure that everyone was doing alright. Count and Tabloid remained close by Naomi, sticking with one another and helping each other corral the enemy planes. Húxiān eventually started working with them, and it seemed that after about a minute, everyone was finally starting to get the hang of things.

With all the rolling, climbing, diving, evading, firing, and so on and so forth, Naomi was barely able to keep track of her surroundings. She was, however, aware of Long Caster informing them that weapons were free and that they needed to shoot everything that posed a threat to their fleet. It was Wiseman's voice that followed the comment, sounding uncertain of Clemens but hiding this from him without any trouble as he said, "Sir, you didn't tell us that there was a change in the H-hour. We weren't prepared to send them in by themselves. It puts them at too high a risk."

Clemens let out a scoff as he sneered, "What, you mean that even our hotshots won't even last five minutes? If they're as good as everyone says then they shouldn't have any trouble." He'd said something along those lines before. Naomi felt herself tense up with anger, and she bit back a frustrating groan as she let another missile loose and pulled clear of the wreckage of the enemy fighter as she shot past it. He didn't tell them about the change until the last minute on purpose. What was this guy's problem? They'd never met him before, so why was he so keen to mock them and see them fail? If anyone else was wondering the same thing as her, they didn't care to voice it. She'd ask them when they got home. Right now, she wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. She had a feeling that the time wasn't the only thing that Clemens hadn't been truthful about.

Húxiān let out a surprised gasp and grunted as she narrowly avoided being hit by a missile from an enemy fighter, but it remained stubbornly glued to her tail in pursuit. Tabloid came to her aid, diving at it and firing the machine gun the whole way until the wing from the enemy was too damaged to allow it to keep fighting. "Shit! Thanks, Hartmann…I owe you one," she said to him with a relieved sigh. She looked around for a new target as Tabloid broke away from her to do the same. As she did, she observed, "Damn, we've got tons of company above and below. Sticky situation. Not as hard as I thought it would be without Wiseman, though..."

"Seriously? You're still on about the fact that he didn't come?" Count said, sounding genuinely surprised and also amused by it for some reason. "Jeez. I don't need no Wiseman to fly!"

"Then prove it, Count!" Wiseman barked at him with a sigh.

"Righto!" Count chirped. In the midst of the battle, Naomi caught sight of him as he took on one of the remaining F-22s and get on its tail with ease. The Raptor and the Eagle pursued one another for a while, with Count actually managing to keep up with the faster, more advanced aircraft. The F-22 rolled to evade and start a dive, and Count matched the move, firing while they were both halfway through the barrel roll, then firing another missile when they leveled out again. The F-22 couldn't evade in time, and its pilot was forced to eject as the fighter's tail crumbled away and the engine began to ignite from the impact. Count let out a sigh, "Hope you're all keeping track of your kills. That's three for me."

"I've got five," Tabloid answered.

"Eight," Naomi replied with a grunt as she matched the moves of the last enemy Raptor. Thankfully, Avril's upgrades actually made it possible to keep up with a faster plane and she had no trouble finishing it off with her pulse lasers. She was glad she could use her own special weapons again, especially after the last operation they had with the targeting pods. "Whoo!" she said, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Let me correct that number real quick — it's nine."

"I've got six," Húxiān piped up after a moment, much to everyone else's shock. Naomi didn't even know that she was keeping track of it. Sounding as though she was fighting off a smile, she added, "Not that it'll do us much good, I don't think. Trigger's got the advantage. And the drive, it would seem."

"And here we were thinking that you hated the idea of a little competition," Tabloid teased Húxiān with a short laugh. "Finally loosening up, eh Hirose?"

"Oh, just shut your trap and keep shooting, rookie!" Húxiān retorted as they all lowered their altitude to intercept a large squadron of Erusean fighters, the comment earning an indignant huff from Tabloid although he didn't argue with it.

As they closed in on the enemy squadron, the HUD identified the targets as F-4s, which was a bit of a surprise to everyone. Erusea really was going all out, but to be fair, the F-4 wasn't a bad plane. Really old, but there weren't many countries that were anywhere close to retiring those things. Naomi wouldn't want to fly it though. She heard from her brother — who'd flown one temporarily — that the thing handled like a brick. But to each his own. They could fly whatever they wanted, she didn't think it'd make a difference. Then again, what mattered was how well the pilot new their plane. If they truly were skilled, then they'd have no problem handling the Phantom. "This is Strider 1. I've got eyes on the target. I'd watch your backs, guys. They're flying F-4s, so I'd bet that they've got some experience under their belts."

"Doesn't matter," Count pointed out to her. "We can take 'em. Let's go!" The formation broke as they all split off in different directions, Count and Húxiān targeting the planes on the edges and picking off the stragglers while Naomi and Tabloid jumped right into the middle and met the enemy fighters head on. One by one, they managed to down a few of the lesser skilled of the enemy squadron, it would seem. Three on Count's side had already fallen, and three on Húxiān's end. Tabloid secured two easy kills, and Naomi had gotten four already. But there didn't seem to be an end in their numbers, and at least seven enemy F-4s still remained. Count grunted as he scanned the skies for the next, easiest target. "Damn. I've downed quite a few but it hasn't even made a dent! They just keep coming!"

Tabloid scoffed. "Count? Complaining? That's a first…" Everyone chuckled at the sarcasm in Tabloid's voice, but it died down when Count joined in with his own, dry and exaggerated 'haha'-ing. As Tabloid caught his breath, he added, "Oh, c'mon. Just shut up and shoot back. You'll take 'em out eventually. Seriously, you don't see Trigger complaining, do you?"

"She complains on a daily basis," Count replied with an edge of amusement in his voice. Naomi would have said something, but she recalled complaining before the briefing so she kept her mouth shut. However, after a moment Count finally added, "But alright, fine. Here we go." He picked up speed and jumped on one of the remaining F-4s, wasting no time. However, the two chased each others tails most of the way, occasionally letting a spray of machine gun fire when they were finally in position. Count grunted as he pulled a high-G turn to avoid from crashing nose first into the ocean as the F-4 attempted to run him into the ground. At last, Count managed to get a secure lock on the enemy aircraft and fired, letting out a victorious shout as the missile struck its target and the pilot ejected. The enemy wingman then made a move on him, but he wasn't at all put off by it. "Yeah, come at me, bro! Catch me if you can! You don't stand a chance!"

Naomi stifled a laugh, turning it into a snort of amusement. "Did you seriously just say 'come at me, bro'? Because that may be the weirdest thing I've ever heard you say."

"Oh, shut up and help already!" Count snapped at her as he finished off the wingman, but he sounded more embarrassed than upset.

"I'm just trying to give y'all a chance to catch up, but I guess if you don't want me to do you any favors then I'll jump back in," Naomi said with a shrug, checking her radar for the nearest enemy target. After that last F-4, the remainders of the enemy ace squadron — or at least, she assumed that they were an ace squadron, given how they put up a decent fight — pulled out of the fight and were retreating back to Erusean air space, obviously not overestimating their capabilities. That meant that they were at least smart and knew to leave when they were outnumbered. If only Strider Squadron had that luxury. It wouldn't be long before the enemy exhausted them, and Naomi was already starting to feel the effects of the fight. "Damn…how much longer do we have to keep this up? Has it been five minutes yet?"

There was a sigh that came over the radio from Clemens, followed shortly by him exclaiming to someone, "Are they _always_ this whiny? Not to mention the unprofessional banter! I thought they were supposed to be real pilots. Then again, what did I expect from a bunch of overly confident twenty-something-year-olds that have had their egos stroked like crazy?" Naomi rolled her eyes and was pretty sure that her wingmen were all collectively doing the same. This guy was a real hard ass and he seemed to have it out for them. There was a pause before he spoke again, another sigh preceding it. "Continue to try and gain air superiority. You've got another three minutes to go. And quit hanging around the fleet. There are other enemies to take care of. Quit wasting oxygen and engage before I—"

The radio abruptly cut out, but not in static, and Naomi wondered if Wiseman had cut Clemens off before he could continue to insult and threaten them. She resisted the urge to start grinning, settling instead for a smirk. _Well, that's what you get you asshole_. She took a look around, realizing that they were all outnumbered. If they stayed together and taking on the same squadron, then they had a higher chance of getting them all, but right now they just needed to weaken them enough to the point that the others would withdraw. They also needed to go easy on their ammunition. Naomi had been saving her pulse lasers, but she hadn't kept track of how many times the others had used their own special weapons. She was honestly trying to juggle more things than she could handle at the moment. _I probably shouldn't have accepted Count's challenge. Ugh_.

Long Caster's voice came over the radio, warning them of a new enemy making an approach. "We've got more uninvited guests. Typhoons and Su-57s. They're both highly capable planes, so stay on your toes if you engage them!"

Indeed, two enemy squadrons were approaching them fast, likely there to attack the fleet. Su-57s on one side and Typhoons on the other. They hadn't been detected until the last minute, apparently. Strider Squadron regrouped around one another, but Naomi knew that they had to handle the enemies differently then they had been before they ran out of ammunition. While she was trying to think of how to work this, the captain of the _Puffin_ came over the radio and brought her out of her thoughts, "AWACS Long Caster, Strider Squadron! This is Captain Robin Airey of the _Puffin_. We're unharmed for the moment, but you need to eliminate those enemy planes. They're gonna be gunning for us and we can't afford anything slowing us down. Being late isn't an option today."

Naomi sighed with frustration. Not only did she have some random brigadier general that hated her barking at her and threatening her, but she also had some ship captain telling her how to do the job. To be fair, she was taking a bit longer to make a decision than usual, but only by a few seconds. Reluctantly, being sure to keep any hostility out of her voice, she said, "_Puffin_, this is Strider 1. Copy that. There's only four of us. We're doing the best we can." She ended the transmission, and received no argument from anyone else as she finished up her planning. She took a deep breath, hoping this could work. "Count, you and I pair up and take out the Su-57s. Stay closer to the fleet. I'll chase them higher up and you catch the ones that slip through. And trust me, with the way we're doing this, some are bound to do so. Tabloid, I want you to intercept those Typhoons. Húxiān, you cover him. Watch each others backs. Tabloid, you call the shots once you get there."

"Roger that, Trigger," Tabloid said seriously, sounding a little out of breath. In spite of this, he seemed genuinely excited to be back in the air, but Naomi was still a little worried about him. Not that he wasn't a capable fighter pilot, but she couldn't help but feel like it was a bad decision switching Skald and Tabloid up for the mission. This was stressful and a lot even for her and Count. Maybe all that rest had actually done him and Húxiān some good. Yet she still worried that he was going to get carried away and she didn't want to risk losing him. Was this how Wiseman had felt about it? _Never mind that. Focus!_ she reminded herself as Tabloid hesitated from breaking off and finally spoke up again. "But, umm…any way you want us to go about it?"

"I was getting to that, Tabloid," she said quickly, starting to feel more than a little overwhelmed as the realization that the numbers were growing started to set in. "Just hit whatever you can. Disable it, actually shoot it down, I don't care. We need to worry less about picking every single one off and focus on weakening them enough so that they can't fight back. That's why someone needs to handle the perimeter. Erusea has some pretty ballsy pilots in their ranks as we've all seen and there's no telling how desperate they are to protect this sub. Any other questions?" They all murmured some variation of 'no' and she gave a firm nod to herself. "Good. Everyone, get to work. Don't let 'em get our fleet!"

The four split off into two separate groups, following the plan like they were told. Tabloid and Húxiān met the Typhoons head on, promptly taking out the two planes that were leading their formation. They shot down one more together before Tabloid simply got a lock on one of the remaining planes without firing, eventually firing a warning shot that scared the last three enough so that they retreated from the airspace, no longer having the guts to continue the fight. Tabloid then ordered Húxiān to regroup and cover the fleet while Naomi and Count took on the Su-57s. Their planes shot past Count and they tried their best to move in unison with one another, but Húxiān seemed to be having a hard time 'clicking' with the three of them and their maneuvering wasn't the smoothest.

While the Typhoons had been easy to intimidate, the Su-57s were more relentless than Naomi had been expecting. She took down one of them, spotting the pilot bailing out. Pulling clear of the enemy soldier, she circled back around to pick her next target. She expected them to turn tail and run when they figured out who she was based on her plane's livery, but they didn't relent and started a dive for the fleet. Naomi grunted with frustration, targeting one on the edge when its pilot was stupid enough to break formation and try and take her on with no cover. She aimed carefully with the machine gun, pulling the trigger and targeting the wing of the aircraft. It sheared off and began to spin out of control. This time, she didn't see a chute, but she had no time to worry about that. It seemed that after taking out two of them, she'd pissed off the rest of them. Two broke away to intercept her, and the other two kept going for the fleet.

"Count, heads up! You've got two bandits coming your way!" Naomi called out to him, rolling to evade the missiles that the two aircraft fired at her. Below, Count engaged the other two, taking one out without much difficulty as he announced the kill over the radio. Naomi, on the other hand, was preferring to evade rather than fight until she could get into a good position. Or rather, get them into a good position. She could tell what they were trying to do as one of them attempted to match her speed, although he wasn't having much luck. She hadn't let up on the throttle the entire fight. She feigned a left turn, starting to bank in that direction, tricking the other Su-57 into speeding up and going in the wrong direction as he and his wingman tried to box her in. She braked hard and without any warning nearly bringing the plane into a stall but getting herself into the right position to fire on one while the one that had been matching her speed tried to figure out what was going on. The Su-57 was struck by the missile, but wasn't taken out.

The two had no choice but to retreat and limp home, recognizing that the fight wasn't going to be won. Naomi let them go. They weren't her problem any longer. As the enemy aircraft withdrew, a squadron of F-15Es and F-35s took their place, earning a groan from Naomi. However, and just in the nick of time, a new voice broke through the chatter on the radio as an allied squadron announced their arrival. "This is Enchanter! We've entered the AO and are ready to provide support."

"Yes!" Long Caster let out a relieved breath "EW aircraft and Drake Squadron are here!"

Count chuckled. "I didn't think you'd get here so quickly."

"Sorry about the wait," Drake Squadron's leader radioed them, sounding more than a little embarrassed by the holdup. "But we're here now, team."

"Alright everyone. The EW aircraft have strong ESM onboard," Long Caster explained to them as Drake Squadron got into position behind Strider Squadron. He went on. "It can improve your dogfighting capabilities by enhancing missile range, homing, and more. If you're within their range, then its a sure win. Just make sure that no enemy aircraft can hit them. Everyone, show the Eruseans how to put up a real fight!"

"Righto! Drake Squadron, follow me!" Count called out. "I'll show ya how the pros do it!" Naomi rolled her eyes as he broke away from her wing and headed to intercept the enemy F-35s that were making a move on one of Enchanter Squadron's aircraft. She trusted him to provide cover for their allies, as he hadn't failed thus far, but she couldn't trust him to not be a little cocky at times. It was just how he was and she doubted that he'd ever change. He hadn't changed yet. _Eh_. There was room for improvement in all of them. At least as far as Wiseman was concerned.

A member of Drake Squadron seemed to be smiling at Count's comment as two of their planes broke off to follow him.

"Copy that. Show us what you've got, Strider 2." As they closed in on the enemy aircraft, members of Drake Squadron began to announce that they were engaging the enemy. One by one, all five members of Drake Squadron had engaged the enemies, quick to provide the support that Strider had been waiting for all that time. Two of their squadron members teamed up with Count, two with Húxiān, and then one with Tabloid, leaving Naomi to work by herself. She didn't mind, though. They were still around, still helping. She didn't need someone covering her the entire time.

The two squadrons worked together, splitting across the battlefield to hunt down their next target. Naomi eyed the port in the area around the _Alicorn_, noticing the ground targets that everyone had been ignoring the entire time. If the fleet got within range of them, they might have a problem on their hands. She looked around, seeing that the rest of her allies were all finishing off the first wave of enemies, letting injured stragglers retreat without interference. Naomi was satisfied with that, since a defenseless target wasn't any threat to them. If they were that determined, then they wouldn't have a choice, but they were withdrawing and there was no need for further pursuit.

Regardless of this, the enemy air support was occupied with Drake Squadron and the rest of Strider Squadron, and someone had to take care of them. "Strider 1 to Long Caster and all allied units," she said, getting everyone's attention for a moment. "I've detected surface-to-ship and AA weaponry around the sub. I'm moving to eliminate them, so if you could keep the enemy air support busy just a little while longer then that'd be great." Everyone sounded off, several of them making a smug comment about how it would be easy enough. Naomi didn't want to agree out of fear that they'd jinx the operation. Erusea probably had more incoming, so they had to stay sharp.

Positive that no enemies would get in her way and stop her, Naomi banked to the right and circled around before diving towards the port and targeting the weapons around the sub. Now that she was back at a low altitude over the remains of the oil depot, she was able to actually see the amount of damage that Spare Squadron had inflicted upon the place. The burned tankers were now stuck to bake in the sun on the shore, some half submerged and others completely beached. The tanks that had been burning during a sandstorm now just sat there, crumbling and colored black. Naomi's mind replayed the events of that operation and she lost focus for a moment until fire from an AA gun shook her from her thoughts.

Startled, she heard the tone that announced that she had a solid lock on the target and she realized that she'd had it for some time. It was like all the sound she'd blocked out suddenly came rushing back and assaulted her ear drums. As quick as she could, she fired a missile at one AA gun, then a truck that was sitting next to it before pulling up and readying herself for another run. The targets were practically lining themselves up for her, and she was able to take out two the next run, and then get one with carefully executed machine gun fire. One by one, the _Alicorn_'s ground defense had been completely wiped out and it had to rely on air support now. She examined her handiwork as well as getting a last look at the destroyed oil depot before taking a deep, shaky breath and checking her HUD and radar for anything new.

Sure enough, even more enemy aircraft were entering the AO. Naomi inwardly groaned as Long Caster's voice came over the radio. "All ground targets have been destroyed, but they're sending in another wave of enemy fighters," he said to them. "F-15Es are going after the EW aircraft, and we've got enemy strike fighters approaching the fleet…they're Fullbacks, definitely faster than the ones before. Stay on your toes. They probably have a bit of an advantage."

"They pose a serious threat, too," Wiseman added. "Take them out, now!"

"Already on it!" Naomi brought her plane about, calculating the best position for a shot on the Su-34s. They were approaching from both sides, three on each one. The F-15Es were — thankfully — thrown off of Enchanter Squadron by a couple members of Drake Squadron. This freed up half of Drake Squadron and all of Strider Squadron, as well as giving Enchanter a chance to show everyone just how well the ESM worked. Taking as little time as she could, she figured out what their next plan would be. With how fast everything seemed to be moving, they didn't seem to have much time to plan ahead. It was all there and now, and it hadn't even seemed like they'd been out there that long, although she was pretty sure it had at least been an hour. There was no way that Drake Squadron had only been five minutes late. She ignored the thought about the time, and called out, "Alright, Strider Squadron, let's get this done quick. Tabloid, Húxiān, take the second group, off to the left. Count and I will handle these guys over here. Enchanter, think you could help us out a bit?"

"Roger that, Strider 1," came the voice of Enchanter's leader. "Let's give them a hand. Drake Squadron, you've got our backs, right?"

"Sure do. Go ahead and give the LRSSG a little taste of our own brand of magic, huh?" Drake 1 said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Some smugness, too, if Naomi had heard correctly. Apparently Drake Squadron got this sort of support all the time. She made a mental note to bring it up with Wiseman. Maybe they could manage to steal Enchanter away from Drake Squadron, or just get a squadron of their own to handle that. Then again, that put them at a bit of a disadvantage, considering that they'd have to keep an eye on them all the time and overall it just meant that Strider Squadron and Cyclops Squadron would get overwhelmed as well as a little lazy if they relied on ESM all the time. Drake Squadron could keep Enchanter, but just for today, Naomi wanted to see what all this hype was about, not having had a chance to try it out on her own.

Enchanter's pair of Growlers were spread out over the operation area, but they came close enough to Strider Squadron to provide them with the ESM. One covered Tabloid and Húxiān, managing to keep up with them as they both made for the other group of enemies. Without waiting on Tabloid or the others, Húxiān flew ahead of Tabloid and immediately fired a missile when she'd gotten a lock, but at the angle and range that she was at, Naomi was expecting the shot to be trashed. To her surprise, though, the missile veered sharply towards the enemy Fullback and struck it from the side. It shook and wavered in the air, and Húxiān finished it off with her machine gun after taking careful aim.

Tabloid let out an impressed whistle as he caught up to her. "Wow…nice work, Húxiān. I thought for sure you were gonna miss that one. Guess the ESM really works, huh? Lemme give it a try, then." In just a few moments, Tabloid had picked off his own target with a single missile, clipping its wings for good. After a few minutes of seeming to fight with Húxiān over the last Fullback, Tabloid finally won their little game of tug of war and was the first to fire, although it was a shot in the dark that it would hit under normal circumstances. Seemingly thanks to Enchanter's support, the missile found its mark and the kill went to Tabloid. Húxiān huffed in annoyance, but Tabloid chuckled. "This is amazing! How come we don't get treats like this more often?"

"Because we're cooler?" a member of Drake Squadron suggested, the rest of his squadron all agreeing with him and laughing as well.

"Aaahahaha!" Húxiān mocked their laughter, clearly not impressed. "Or maybe it's because _we're_ cooler and don't need rely on Enchanter for all of our kills. Or that we can, y'know, actually get kills." The retort earned stifled laughter and several 'oooooh's from everyone involved. Their ally didn't dignify them with a response, and everyone went back to their work, although Naomi could imagine that Húxiān had a rather smug look on her face at the reaction.

In the meantime, Naomi and Count had made quick work of their own targets. The enemy Su-34s barely stood a chance against them. They picked off the ones on the edge of the formation, taking them by surprise in spite of the fact that they should have been expecting a fight. The lead plane carried on, paying them no mind until Count tried scaring him off by strafing the aircraft. That got his attention, but instead of recognizing that he was outnumbered, he dared to take on the two of them likely without thinking twice about it. He targeted Count first, forcing him to evade, and then went after Naomi. They shot past one another, both of them firing a missile in an attempt to hit the other, but before the Fullback could turn around and start to retaliate, Naomi and Count regrouped. Although they were able to play off of one another, with only a few slip ups here and there, the last enemy was an especially stubborn one and managed to evade all but one of their missile locks even with Enchanter's support.

At last, while the lead plane forced Naomi and Count to break and started for the fleet again, Count managed to recover quickly and fired a missile as soon as he was in range. With Enchanter's help, the shot that would have normally missed struck the target and the enemy aircraft's wing broke off, sending it spiraling down to the ocean. Count took a moment to catch his breath, having watched the targets destruction. Almost impressed, he said, "Wow…you know, that bird flew pretty well. I didn't think pilots of that caliber were still around, at least not in the Erusean military. I mean seriously, who could have held their own against us for that long? The list isn't very long, I'll tell you that."

"Someone's got an awfully high opinion of his capabilities," Naomi teased him with a tired huff, leveling out and doing a quick once-over of the fleet to make sure none of them had been damaged. Sure enough, the fleet was secure, and the Eruseans were still occupied with Drake Squadron and Tabloid and Húxiān. Glancing back towards the port and seeing the submarine glinting in the sunlight, practically mocking them, she felt a chill run down her spine for some reason. Something just didn't seem right. It was…easy. Tiring, yes, but the Alicorn had the abilities to stop them and their air support didn't stand a chance. She shook it off and radioed everyone, "Well, fighting's not over yet but it looks like their ranks are thinning."

"Yes! Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel!" Long Caster said eagerly. He paused, then let out a longing sigh. "It's been so hectic out here, I haven't even had time for a snack…at least now there's hope."

"Jeez, relax, Long Caster," Count said with a sigh as everyone checked for the next group of targets they'd have to go after. "I'll get you a break in a second."

Their AWACS chuckled at the comment. "Thanks, Count."

"Don't sweat it," Count replied, sounding as though he was smiling. "The Eruseans are refusing to let up, but I think we'll have that beast of a submarine captured in no time."

"They'll be happy to see us," Naomi said with a sigh, shaking her head as she recalled how long they'd spent underwater. "They spent two years at the bottom of the ocean. Heh. No one would want to go back to that. I mean, sure, they're gonna be stuck in a cell, being interrogated by the Osean military, but that's favorable to being stuck underwater…" She trailed off, mostly talking to herself at that point. The thought made her skin crawl. She didn't like the idea of being shot down over water by a railgun, either, so she was keeping a sharp eye out. Two blips appeared on radar, and she was brought out of her thoughts as she curiously glanced towards it, then up towards the west of the operation area where two aircraft were approaching as fast as their planes could take them. "Long Caster, have we got more incoming?"

He didn't respond at first. "This…this isn't looking good. We've got Harriers coming from the north, and two bogeys approaching fast from the west." Long Caster took a moment before he quickly added, "Wait, hang on. Aircraft type…Su-47!"

Tabloid voiced some confusion at this. "Berkuts? You sure about that, Long Caster? Erusea doesn't have a lot of those. Did they just come out of nowhere?"

But no one had any time to respond. The Harriers were closing in fast, and so were the incoming Su-47s. Everyone was taking a moment just to process, and it was becoming painfully obvious that things were now far from as straightforward as Clemens had been claiming. They had time to adjust the plan…maybe these guys were just more Erusean fighters coming in to protect the Alicorn. It'd be easy to take them out if that was the case. It was the Harriers that posed the threat to the fleet. The Berkuts would just get in the way at worst. At least, that's what Naomi's initial thought process had been. Which is why she was about to turn and face them. It was only two, so it had to be easy to take care of. Then she realized just how wrong she was.

One of the straggling, damaged enemy fighters that was making his retreat was suddenly jumped on as one of the enemy planes broke the formation. He didn't have time to properly react before a pair of missiles was fired and his plane disappeared into a ball of smoke and flames. Naomi watched in stunned silence, debating whether or not it would be wise to face them on her own. Furthermore, she wondered if they were really hostile. They didn't respond to the IFF, but they just downed an Erusean fighter. _What's their deal?_ she thought, too confused to really go over a new strategy. The two fighters regrouped, flying alongside with each other before moving in perfect synchronization around one another. They moved in a circular, showy motion, one inverted over the other. They twisted like this before they leveled out beside one another again and picked up speed, coming straight for Naomi.

The sudden sound of a missile warning startled Naomi back into action and she broke sharply as a pair of missiles, one from each of the new aircraft, streaked past her. The new aircraft broke and shot past her. That was their warning shot. They wanted to intimidate her, and she had the feeling that it wasn't going to stop there. Warnings went off again, and all she knew to do was evade until she got permission to fire back. "Gah! What the hell?!" she grunted as she banked left and right, rolling and diving to evade the lock, repeating the same motions out of desperation. She managed to get a glimpse at the markings on their tails and caught sight of the Osean markings that they sported. Naomi furrowed her brow in confusion, gritting her teeth as she continued to evade. "Long Caster! Wiseman! These guys just took down an Erusean bird! They've got Osean markings, but they won't get off of my tail!"

"_What?!_" Count sounded concerned and confused all at once, and that pretty much summed up Naomi's thoughts in that moment too.

"Drake and Enchanter were the only reinforcements we had coming. I don't know who these guys are, but they've gotta be hostile," Wiseman said quickly, his voice having a nervous edge to it. "You're cleared to engage them. Don't hesitate!"

Naomi let out a huff. "Wasn't planning on it," she said. However, the Harriers were still approaching the fleet. She had to make a choice. These clowns didn't seem interested in going after anyone but her now that they'd taken out that Erusean, however the fleet would be in danger if they focused on the newcomers. She wasn't ready to engage them yet. Quickly piecing together a new strategy while she continued evasive maneuvers, she called out to her allies, "Strider Squadron, Drake Squadron! Take out the Harriers and protect the fleet. Enchanter, provide them with ESM. I'll take care of these guys and get them off my back."

At first, no one said anything, and her own squadron seemed to linger nearby as if they were debating jumping in and helping her take on the two new enemies. Thankfully, it seemed that they trusted her judgement and to her surprise, the three of them adjusted their course and headed for the Harriers. It was Húxiān that broke off first, followed by Tabloid. Count hesitated for a second longer, but Naomi heard what sounded like a frustrated sigh before he followed them. Naomi managed to let out a sigh of relief. No arguments from them. Besides, she was more than a match for these guys. The fleet took priority, but she didn't exactly want to turn down a real dogfight if she had the option. After all the drones, some regular pilots to fight with would be an interesting change of pace. And with Mr. X currently MIA, she could use a challenge.

It didn't take long before Naomi got on their tails, turning the table around. They kept moving in sync with one another to throw her off, flying planes that looked identical to the other. In some cases, it was hard for her to get a solid lock on one of them before they managed to throw it off. They finally broke off and Naomi had her chance. She throttled up and chased off after one of them. Once she was sure she had a lock, she was about to fire off a missile, but her HUD seemed to glitch for a moment and wavered in the air. By the time it cleared up, seven new targets had appeared out of nowhere, and although she could lock onto them, she couldn't see any actually on her radar. "Uhh…Long Caster, am I seeing things? Hostiles just popped out of nowhere!"

"It's an ECM," Long Caster replied. "A kind of saturation decoy…you're going to have to visually scan for the source."

"Oh, wonderful…" Naomi said. She continued to switch her targets until she locked onto the one that she was absolutely sure was a real plane and not just an empty square. She fired a pair of missiles, then tried using her pulse lasers for an extra kick. Only one missile actually connected with the target, and it barely did any damage to the aircraft. The pilot was relentless, and aside from a trail of smoke, seemed unaffected by the impact of the missile. The second aircraft continuously fired missiles Naomi's way, and she decided she'd try going after him next. It seemed as though that was what he wanted, as she was met by the same trick that his wingman had used and a missile came from both sides. Praying that it would work, she brought her plane into a stall and rolled clear as she picked up speed to avoid crashing nose first into the sea, the two missiles narrowly missing her.

"Trigger!" Count's voice came over the radio, sounding irritated and worried simultaneously. "Hey, that was pretty close. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Naomi replied, planning out her next course of action. She glanced back over towards the fleet, not detecting the enemy aircraft on radar any longer. At least, not the ones that were attacking the fleet. "You got the Harriers, right?"

"Yup, we got 'em. Didn't even stand a chance against us," Húxiān said smugly as she and the rest of Strider Squadron regrouped, looking as though they were about to come to Naomi's aid. She didn't really want them to get involved, but the two Berkuts didn't seem interested in going after them.

"We lost the destroyer _Kite_, though. Sounds like everyone's managing to evacuate the ship okay, though, so I don't think we suffered too many casualties," Tabloid said, sounding more than a little tired. At least most of the crew would be okay. Whether the ship was lost didn't matter. They could always replace it. They did it with the _Kestrel_, so a destroyer wouldn't be too much trouble. The Osean military had a lot of money and they would blow it every chance they got anyways. But the _Kite_ wasn't a top priority. And Tabloid knew this as well as everyone else did as he changed the subject and focused on their current problem. "We left Drake Squadron to cover the fleet. Figured you could use a hand against these guys."

Naomi got a lock and fired on one of them, her missile evaded once again, and then she broke off the attack to circle back around and try her luck with the next. Thus far, they hadn't even noticed Strider approaching them. They were going after her with everything they had, but it was all careful and strategic rather than just going headfirst and firing everything that they had. It was likely that they were communicating everything to one another, but they were adapting flawlessly. Naomi had gotten better, but she felt like they had a reason to fight her like this. Like they were actually out to kill her rather than have a fun little duel like Mr. X seemed interested in. She couldn't risk the others getting involved. "Negative, Strider 3. Mop up the remaining fighters. We've got some of them coming back for a beating, and it looks like they brought backup. I've got this handled."

"Dammit, Trigger, we're not leaving you to fight on your own. Now isn't the time to act like an overly confident hero," Count snapped at her, and she was taken aback by the fact that he actually seemed to want to stay behind and help her. This coming from the guy that loved a fight but hated when things got too rough. She was about to argue back, but he didn't seem interested in listening and made it clear that he was going to stubbornly remain in the fight as he announced, "I'm covering you, dumbass. Tabloid, Húxiān, go help Drake Squadron before we end up taking more casualties."

"You're both idiots. These guys aren't Osean or Erusean. They're a bunch of filthy bats and you're practically handing over your lives to them. But whatever..." Húxiān grumbled at them, although she didn't put up any more of a fight. Although it was clear that she didn't appreciate Count trying to boss her aro und. Naomi wouldn't either, and she'd had to put up with it in Spare. Only difference was that she could get away with ignoring the order, but Húxiān couldn't disobey it. Especially not in a situation like this. Their grouchy squadron mate broke off from the formation, still voicing her annoyance."Why didn't I agree to switch with Lanza? Ugh…Tabloid, c'mon. Let's go get this over and done with. It'll give us a chance to run up our score a little."

"Roger that." Tabloid let out a reluctant sigh, but unlike Húxiān, he gave no further indication that he was upset and turned to follow Húxiān, ultimately leading their next attack as they zeroed in on a pair of damaged Erusean fighters that made the choice to come back and fight, with a small amount of reinforcements on their tail. Tabloid sounded uncomfortable as he said, "Idiots…they came back to a fight damaged! That submarine must mean the world to them if they're willing to die for it. Really stupid sacrifice if you ask me. Don't they realize that Erusea's pretty much using them as pawns? Pfft…I doubt they even care. Just blindly following orders like that…"

Under normal circumstances, Naomi would have replied, but she had her hands full. Count finally reached her, and managed to get one of them off of her tail. It was even. One for each of them. He must have pissed off whichever one it was that he started chasing. Naomi soon realized that it was the more capable of the two. After studying them during their chasing and attempts at firing, she realized that one of them was more precise and waited for an opening, and he coupled that with an aggressive style, whereas his 'twin' had an aggressive and yet graceful flying style but seemed to fire whenever he could, uninterested in waiting for a proper opening. Whatever the case, both of them seemed to be solely after Naomi, and had it not been for Count managing to stay glued to one of them, they probably would have continued going after her together.

The one that Naomi was tailing seemed to hesitate without the assistance of his wingman, and it seemed as though he was toying with Naomi while he waited for his ally to return, the two of them locked in what seemed like some kind of aerial dance, matching one another's speed and failing to get behind the other as they continued to climb and roll around one another. They just barely avoided colliding with one another. Now close enough to see the markings clearly, Naomi was momentarily thrown off as she realized that something wasn't adding up. Seeing the enemy aircraft roll, she thought that there were two canopies, until she realized that one of them was simply painted onto the belly of the aircraft and its entire purpose was to throw her off. Not something she'd seen before, but something she was familiar with. How it worked was always lost on her, though. "Hey, Count, are you seeing this?"

"The false canopies they painted on? Yeah, I see 'em. They aren't amateurs, but their fake canopies aren't going to do them much good." Count said, cut off as he grunted when he matched the high-G turn of the enemy aircraft that had pulled the sharp turn in an attempt to lose him. Unfortunately, it worked, and the aircraft feigned a turn that Count impulsively moved to match. Extra enemies appeared on their HUDs once again and their locks were thrown off, the actual enemy slipping away in the confusion and heading back towards Naomi. Count let out a furious growl. "Dammit, these bastards are slippery…Trigger! Heads up!"

The vertical, fighter-jet tango that Naomi had been stuck in came to an end as both of them broke off from the other and Naomi was suddenly tailed by both of them again. "Shit, not again!" Back where she started, Naomi chose instead to try something she'd seen in a movie a while back. It was a long shot, but it just might work. They were both coming up on her wing, and Count was high enough so that they wouldn't risk crashing into one another, so she decided to go for it. She hit the brakes. Hard. As hard as she possibly could without stalling again. The Berkuts overshot and Naomi jumped on the one she'd been singling out, getting a lock and firing as soon as she could. One was evaded when the enemy dropped flares, but the other hit the wing like the first one had and there was noticeable damage. "Haha! How do you like that you son of a bitch?"

His wingman wavered, seeming to consider going to the aid of his ally, but as Count came up on Naomi's six he clearly thought the better of it. With a damaged plane, they'd be outnumbered. They couldn't keep fighting. Reluctantly, he started back the way that they'd come, seeming as though he wanted to leave as fast as he'd arrived. The lock-breaking, fake targets disappeared off of their HUDs suddenly. His wingman hesitated, and Naomi was suddenly startled when an unfamiliar voice came over the radio. It sounded like a woman, and it also sounded as though she wasn't much older than Naomi was. But she was definitely angrier. "Goddammit! Three Strikes, I _will_ have you! You will die, you bitch!"

Count scoffed as he joined up on Naomi's wing, "What?! Who is this?"

"Hey! What are you doing?!" another new voice demanded, this one belonging to a man. It sounded as though he was around the same age, but Naomi couldn't be sure. There was a lot of interference.

"Uhh…hey, guys, please tell me I'm not hearing things?" Naomi said, nervously eyeing the enemy plane as it continued to circle around her and Count, its wingman hanging back as though waiting for it to catch up. Was this the woman that was somehow sending death threats to her over the radio.

"Nah, I hear it too," Húxiān said. It sounded like she was trying to figure out how it was possible, but she then gave up. "How…who are they?"

The strange woman chuckled darkly, and Naomi was surprised to feel a chill shoot down her spine as she heard a radar lock warning. "I'll screw you up so bad, and you're gonna burn soooo fast! You won't even have time to piss your pants…" A stray missile came from the damaged Berkut, and Naomi and Count instinctively broke off. The voice gave one final threat, "And next time we'll keep things nice and even. You get to watch your wingmen die, and then join them." In the confusion, the voice ceased and the enemy Berkut took off as fast as its engines could take it, heading off after its — or rather her — wingman.

Count started to follow, jerking his plane in that direction. "Hey, those filthy bats are on the run!" However, when he noticed that Naomi wasn't following him, he moved back to his original spot on her wing. "Trigger, come on! What are you doing? We can't let them get away!"

Overcoming her surprise at being spoken to by an enemy plane, and the confusion as to how it was possible, Naomi opened her mouth to reply but the brigadier general cut her off. "Captain, Lieutenant, you're both staying put. Let them go," Clemens ordered harshly, and a bit too quickly for Naomi's liking. He didn't seem at all perturbed by what had happened. She instinctively tensed up, wanting to demand why he didn't address this, but Clemens went on with a dismissive tone. "The operation's almost at a close. What just happened was too insignificant. And honestly, I can't believe that you wasted our resources like that. Just go back to the original operation so that we can all go home."

"Are you kidding me?!" Tabloid demanded, suddenly speaking up. "That bitch was using an Osean radio frequency. That's an encrypted military channel, and she just came on it and started threatening us! Don't tell me that something like _that_ is too insignificant!"

"You'd do well to watch your tongue when speaking to your superiors, Hartmann," Clemens said in a dark tone. Taking a deep breath, he added, "There isn't anything you can do about it now. It's too late to chase after them and if anybody's stupid enough to try it then I'll consider it deserting." Naomi inwardly groaned, but didn't say anything as Clemens continued his big speech to them. "The operation's almost complete anyways. Continue to maintain air superiority and we can discuss it more in the debriefing. Any complaints?"

"You're being serious?" Count asked, scoffing as though he found it hard to believe.

Naomi sighed in frustration, looking out her cockpit to her right, out at the approaching enemy squadron that Tabloid and Húxiān were about to face. Drake Squadron lined up behind them, with Enchanter secure in the center of their ranks. They couldn't worry about two random pilots that weren't even posing a threat any longer. They could finish that another time if they needed to. "Count, Tabloid...he's right. We can't go after them now. There isn't any point," she said, banking right with Count following her. "We'll figure out who they were later. Right now we need to capture that sub so that we can all go home."

Húxiān groaned. "Well, I'm not too thrilled about it either, but I guess we don't have much of a choice, do we?" It surprised Naomi that Húxiān was concerned about this. She'd been pricklier than Count ever since the briefing, and although she'd loosened up a bit, Naomi didn't know if she was just upset about being excluded from an interesting fight or if she was actually worried about the fact that someone likely from within their own air force was out to get Naomi. They hadn't known one another long, but Húxiān was one of the first to trust Naomi within the squadron, even if she was uncomfortable flying under Naomi's command. She had a good feeling that Húxiān wasn't going to let this go either.

"Don't worry. I have a feeling that we can settle our score another time," Naomi said reassuringly as she and Count rejoined the formation, leading the attack on what had to be the last wave (Erusea was exhausting their forces at this point). Although they should have been able to pick off the first few enemies with no trouble at all, the second she fired a missile at the lead Erusean bird, the missile began to twist in the air awkwardly as though it was trying to find the target through clouds, and as it wavered, the enemy plane managed to evade it with ease and the missile veered off and blew up against absolutely nothing. Her HUD also began to glitch and wasn't displaying the targets properly. "What the hell? Long Caster, my missile didn't home in properly!"

"Oh, shit!" Long Caster cursed under his breath, but it was still loud enough for them to hear. "I'm sorry, guys! I should have noticed it sooner, but I kinda zoned out…I really wish I could eat right now…" He cleared his throat, and their radar display was updated suddenly to display a large, green circle around three of the blips. "They brought their own EW aircraft. Growlers, just like Enchanter, but they jam over a wide range. Allied ESM is negated inside these areas, but I've displayed the jammed areas on your radar. Hopefully you can work around it. Easiest thing to do would be to take them out."

She paused, thinking for a moment. "Alright, well, that's just what we'll do then." Naomi tried to recall who would be the best at fighting when the odds were uncertain. The ones who'd be best under that kind of pressure. It didn't take long to figure it out, though. They'd probably been through worse before. "Count, Tabloid, you two go after the EW aircraft. Húxiān, you and I will down any fighters we can. Drake Squadron, you come with us. Everyone got it?" They all confirmed that they understood, even the pilots from Drake Squadron agreed. Naomi let out a sigh of relief. No arguments. She was starting to get the hang of this squadron leader thing. At least she thought she was. Dismissing the thought, she gave a firm nod to herself. "Alright. Everyone, let's hurry this up."

"Drake Squadron, let's go!" Drake's leader called out excitedly as they formed up beside Naomi and Húxiān, Count and Tabloid breaking off to go take down the Growlers. The other squadron leader paused, then he chuckled as he addressed his squadron again. "Oh, and keep an eye on Strider 1. You might learn a thing or two from her." Naomi stifled a laugh at that, finding it hard to believe that anyone thought such a thing, and she was pretty sure that her face was red with embarrassment at this point, but she didn't worry about that. She couldn't really worry about that at the moment.

Count and Tabloid went after the two on the sides, leaving the one in the center unharmed for the time being. The Erusean pilots were taking full advantage of this, and two Drake Squadron pilots that had teamed up with one another let their guard down for a second too long. While one attempted to cover his wingman from one fighter, his missiles not homing in, he tried everything but the enemy continued to evade. Another fighter slipped in and fired on Drake 5. The female pilot let out a surprised yelp, ejecting just in time as her plane blew up below her.

Drake 4, startled by what happened, quickly radioed for rescue, "Drake 5 has gone down! She's ejected, but I don't know if she has any injuries. Prepare for the worst! Gah—dammit!" Just as he'd finished radioing for rescue, he turned sharply to evade an incoming missile, but it hit his wing regardless of his efforts. "Argh! This is Drake 4. I've been hit. I can't make it back to base like this…I've gotta eject." He did just that, letting his plane fall to the desert floor, while he safely made it to the ground.

"Damn!" Húxiān cursed, watching it happen. She made a sharp roll to evade an enemy missile, just barely getting clear of it. "_Now_ we start taking losses? Ugh. Worst timing ever…"

"In this mess, rescues are gonna be tricky," Naomi observed, managing to damage one of the enemy planes with her machine gun. She looked around the fight, searching for Count and Tabloid while they fought against the enemy aircraft as best they could with the remainder of Drake Squadron. However, she couldn't get a visual on them through the battle. "Hey, boys, can you give me an update? Our missiles could do more damage if they could actually hit the target…"

She heard Count sigh. "Alright, Trigger, just give us a second. We're having the same issues on our end, too." He went silent for a moment, but at last, two of the EW aircraft had gone down, and the range of the jamming diminished significantly, giving Drake Squadron and Naomi and Húxiān a sudden advantage over the enemy as Enchanter began to follow them and provide support to compensate for their lack of aid before Count and Tabloid managed to shoot down the two Growlers. Count let out a victorious whoop. "Alright! Nice going Tabloid! Enemy EW aircraft have been splashed. One to go!"

Wiseman gave an impressed chuckle, the first thing they'd heard from him in a while. "Nice going, you two," he said, and Naomi could hear the pride in his voice. "We'll go over that one in the debriefing if we can. You did good. Now finish up. We're almost done here."

"You know, I've kind of given up with counting all these enemies," Tabloid admitted, letting Drake Squadron's leader take out the last enemy EW aircraft and providing cover for him as he did so. "I lost track a long time ago, actually."

"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure that Trigger's been keeping tabs," Count said to him through a smile. Strider Squadron regrouped, and he added, "You have been…haven't you?"

Naomi chuckled. "Well, I figured that I'd stay out of the contest and give you three a chance," she said smugly, and heard some sarcastic laughter from the others. She grinned. "But, I have been keeping an eye on everyone out here. Let me tell you, it's a little weird keeping score for a change, but also kinda fun. Just hope you aren't gonna hold it against me when I pick the winner."

"I won't hold it against you..." Húxiān started. She paused, and then it sounded like she was grinning as she finished with, "…So long as it's me."

They all had a moment of laughter with that, in spite of how tired they were all starting to become from the strain of the fight. But at last, after what felt like forever, they managed to drive back the last of the enemy fighters, clearing up the airspace. They waited for a moment, but Long Caster confirmed that all hostiles were gone and no more appeared to be incoming. The fleet had changed its formation at this point, the remaining ships putting themselves around the _Puffin_ to protect it. "This is the _Flycatcher_," one of the ships' captains said over the radio, radioing the _Puffin_ from the sound of it. "Captain Airey, Three Strikes and her crew have tied down the enemy birds. We're almost ready to commence the attack."

"Roger that, _Flycatcher_," Captain Airey said. "Long Caster, we're awaiting confirmation from the LRSSG to commence the operation."

"_Puffin_, this is Long Caster," he said to her. "We've secured air superiority, and the dwindling enemy resistance has been completely neutralized. We're ready to continue with the operation and capture the _Alicorn_."

"_Puffin_ copies. Commencing capture procedures now!" Captain Airey replied quickly. She gave a soft laugh. "You know, I'm amazed Strider Squadron and Drake Squadron managed to make it through all of this. I'd say it's a miracle." She paused. "Hmmm…they must be exhausted by now. Tell them that they can have a break, alright? Also, please tell Captain Foulke and Captain Reed that I appreciate the air support. They did one hell of a job. Guess all those rumors were true."

"I'll let 'em know you send your thanks, but I think they already heard you. But from here on out, it's all you Captain," Long Caster said. He let out a content sigh. "Now that we've got a break, I can finally have my sausage rolls."

"That's the kind of food that you eat up there?" Airey held back a laugh, but it was obvious from her tone that she found what he'd said entertaining. For some reason that Naomi wasn't quite sure of.

Long Caster seemed oblivious to what she was implying as well, as he simply explained, "Of course. Among a few other things. Anything other than finger food would get in the way of my duties."

The rest of Strider Squadron seemed to find the exchange hilarious, and even Count scoffed and said, "Yeah, that clearly wasn't what she meant."

While the giggling and laughing at Long Caster's expense continued, Naomi sat there, more than a little confused. She was pretty sure that Long Caster was equally as confused. Either that, or he understood and was blushing profusely. "Hey, this is probably gonna make me sound naive or something, but what did she mean by that?" Naomi asked the others, but that seemed to make the laughing worse. She furrowed her brow in confusion. After a moment, she mostly figured it out. Or she assumed that she had figured it out. Apparently she wasn't as dirty minded as the rest of them, though. "What? Wait….oooh…she was flirting with him."

"Yeah, something like that, Trig," Count replied, catching his breath as his laughter died off.

Clemens was quick to break up the fun, huffing impatiently. "Cut the chatter," he ordered, and all of the remaining laughing abruptly cut off. He continued once he had their attention. "The mission took longer than expected, but I'll leave it in your hands from here on. Now that we're this close, even _your_ squadron can't mess it." It sounded as though he was speaking mostly to Wiseman, but the jab was directed at all of them. Naomi held back a sharp comment. Clemens sighed. "Major, you take command now. I'm gonna head out for a break. Jeez, listening to these guys talk was exhausting…"

Wiseman's voice came over the radio next. "Whew…" he said, and Naomi was wondering if his relief came from the fact that the mission was over or from Clemens finally not breathing down their necks any longer. "Well done, pilots. This oughta be the end of it. When you get back, I'll talk with Commander Hawkins about letting y'all have a night on the town. I hear that the bistro Long Caster likes to order from has more than just good pizza, and I hear they've got a nice bar, too."

"And I'm pretty sure that they do karaoke some nights!" Long Caster put in excitedly.

"I…don't think I ever want to hear you sing," Count said, holding back a snort of laughter.

"Speak for yourself," Tabloid said with a chuckle. "I'd pay to hear him sing. Wait, no!" His tone was suddenly much lighter, and Naomi could pretty much picture a grin on his face as he eagerly said to them, "We gotta get Bandog to sing!"

Count shuddered at the comment. "Oh, Jesus _Christ_, Tabloid!" he said, obviously put off by the idea. "It's like you reached into my mind and pulled out my worst nightmare. Gah! Now I'm never going to get that image out of my head!"

As everyone once again started laughing at their companions, they didn't notice the _Alicorn_ starting to move until a second too late. Several of the crewmen aboard the _Puffin _and the _Flycatcher _began to overlap one another as they alerted the rest of the fleet to the ship's movement. The _Hamerkop_ and the _Parrotbill_ seemed to be readying themselves for a fight shortly after, but they weren't a match against the _Alicorn_. Captain Airey seemed to realize what was happening before anyone else did. "Landing ship _Puffin_ to all active units. The submarine has started moving. Bearing 180 cruising 5 knots." Just as quickly as the lighthearted mood had come, it quickly left and was replaced by dread and horror as she called out, "There's movement on the deck! Aircraft and….oh my God…their railguns! All ships, correct your course! Abort the operation, just get out of its —"

The captain was cut off with a crunch of static as an earsplitting crack sounded in the air that just about everyone heard and felt deep in their chest. Naomi felt her body instinctively jerk as a reaction and looked out of her cockpit, down at their burning fleet and the monstrous submarine moving through the water, shining in the sunlight. It was an intimidating sight. But their plan to capture it was about to go in a different direction. That didn't seem to be anyone else's concern. Drake Squadron's leader, Captain Reed, let out an almost anguished cry that startled Naomi even further. "Dammit! The _Alicorn_ fired on her with its railguns! Shit, the whole fleet's on fire…they're not gonna make it…"

She forgot that Drake Squadron was a Navy squadron. He'd probably worked with Captain Airey before on other operations. It was a loss to everyone, even those that didn't know any of the crew personally. They'd just watched who knows how many people get obliterated in mere seconds. After _joking_ with them just a few minutes before. This was supposed to be a straightforward mission. No complications. In and out. That's what Clemens had said. Naomi's head was reeling. If they'd noticed sooner, they could have warned the fleet. Why was she feeling guilty? She gritted her teeth and pulled her thoughts together, taking a deep breath and properly processing what was happening. They had to finish what they started somehow.

More movement came from the decks, and the aircraft that Airey had mentioned prior to the _Alicorn_ firing. The four planes took off in pairs from the deck, two taking to the skies before being followed by its wingmen, flying together in a tight formation. Their livery was black with a crimson tail. They were Rafales, an Erusean fighter, and they flew together as if they could anticipate every move that their leader would make before he made it. For just a few fleeting moments, they were within range of regular human eyesight, but as they veered away from the Alicorn, the only thing that told Naomi they were still there were the target indicators on her HUD.

Long Caster quickly radioed them, urgency in his voice although he tried to maintain a cool-headed composure. "Confirming launch of submarine-based aircraft! Four birds!" he announced. After a pause, he added with some hesitation and confusion. "I…what the — It appears that one of them is carrying a cruise missile!"

"What?!" Naomi demanded, already pulling her plane around and readying herself for pursuit. "Long Caster, I wanna check to make sure I'm not hearing wrong. You said a cruise missile, right?"

He confirmed it, and everyone started voicing their own confusion. "What in the world…why would they?…" Húxiān said before quickly pulling herself together.

"What's happening? Gah!" Tabloid grunted in frustration, his own thoughts still moving a mile a minute after the destruction of the fleet.

"Listen up!" Wiseman called out, getting everyone's attention and snapping them out of their thoughts. They all needed to focus, and he was going to make sure that they did so. Otherwise, there wasn't any telling what would happen. "You need to take that bird down! Hurry!"

"Trigger, flying fast is your schtick, right?" Count called out. "Let's go!"

"Already on it!" Naomi was pretty sure that Avril would give her some flack for it, but Naomi had to push the engine as far as she could if they had any chance of catching up. Thankfully, her friend had done a lot of improvements to her engine ever since she figured out how aggressive Naomi flew these things. Hopefully her Eagle could catch up to these guys, even if they did have a head start. The rest of her squadron reacted slower, but they also went as fast as they dared to go in these planes. Tabloid was more experimental, Húxiān and Count the more sure of the three. But she'd left them pretty far behind. They'd catch up before long, but she wasn't sure if she needed the help or not.

A new voice, but one that was familiar, sounded in her ear now. "Patch me in. Alright, do you hear me? David North here," the voice of the OIA analyst said, quickly cutting right to the chase and not wasting any time on small talk. "There's a possibility that the cruise missile is WMD."

"Shit!" Naomi cursed, turning to follow after the squadron and enter the clouds. It seemed like they were trying to throw her off. What the hell are they going to do with that thing?

"Hey! What about the submarine?!" Count demanded quickly, seeming to realize the original goal of the mission. "It's gonna get away. That monster'll roam the ocean and we're not gonna be able to keep them from whatever goal they have!"

"It doesn't matter!" Tabloid replied sharply, his voice unusually harsh. Naomi had never heard him get that hostile before. With anybody. He followed it up with solid reasoning and reminded them all of what took priority. "The submarine can wait! That cruise missile could wipe out more lives in one go than that sub could! Which do you think takes priority, huh, Count?"

"That's enough! Get your heads in the game, both of you!" Naomi snapped at them, finally breaking through the clouds. She just had to go a little further. They were right there. _But they're not within lock on range. Dammit_.

Wiseman's voice rose to a shout. "Don't lose them! Shoot them down!"

"Shit!" Count spat the word that everyone else was thinking.

After what felt like forever, Naomi pushing her engines to the absolute limit (she was amazed that they were still holding up), she followed the targets into another cloud and fought the wind to the other side before she emerged and finally got a read on the target. _Yes!_ She checked her missile reserves. She had enough to down the plane with the cruise missile and still take down a few extra bandits. But things would be nice and even once her squadron reached them. Húxiān gave a cocky chuckle, "Ha! Trigger's caught up to them!"

"Scrap 'em, Trigger!" Tabloid growled.

"20,000 meters until the aircraft exits the AO!" Long Caster warned.

Naomi took a deep breath, trying to focus on the target. She got a lock on the lead plane and the one that they needed to take out. He couldn't get away. She didn't hesitate, and fired immediately, as soon as the solid missile lock tone sounded in her ear. But just before the missiles could connect, one of the wingmen banked in front of it and allowed it to hit him. But one of them was evaded by all four and missed the target. For a moment, Naomi wasn't sure that she wasn't just seeing things, but the smoke trailing from the enemy aircraft confirmed what she'd seen. She'd never seen that before. Sure, she'd take a missile for any one of the pilots she flew with, be it from Cyclops or Strider, and she was sure that they'd do the same. But she'd never seen Erusean pilots show that much concern for their allies. Or maybe they were just hellbent on carrying out their mission.

"15,000 meters!" That was Long Caster again, but Naomi felt like she did in Yinshi Valley. All she really heard at that moment was blood pounding in her ears and the only thing she felt was her gut twisting and making her want to throw up. They were getting away. They were picking up speed again. They'd be out of range.

"Double time it, Trigger!" Wiseman shouted her out of her thoughts, bringing her focus back. "You're the faster pilot!"

She grunted, aware that she was so close to losing them. Her wingmen were behind her. But the missiles she'd fired missed. But by some miracle, one of the missiles homed in like it was supposed to and struck the lead plane, slowing it down and damaging it enough for Naomi to be able to finish it off. She glanced toward her radar. Enchanter! She managed a relieved smile and switched to her pulse lasers, swaying with the enemy aircraft before she lined up her shot and pulled the trigger. A burst of lasers fired out, and one of the wingmen was taken out. The others continued to fly in the way of her shots, until one by one, all three of the squadron members had been destroyed.

At last, she got through to the lead plane. "You're mine, you son of a bitch!" Naomi snarled through clenched teeth, centering the enemy fighter in the pulse laser sights. She fired it off repeatedly, some of the lasers hitting their target and others missing it. But right before the Rafale exited the air space, before it was pointless to chase him down, and before he escaped with a weapon of mass destruction, his wings both crumbled off, and his plane began to combust before it finally became nothing more than a fading ball of smoke. Naomi eased up on the engines, pulling back towards the port as Count, Tabloid, and Húxiān finally caught up to her. "Thanks for the help, Enchanter. Long Caster?"

"Target's destruction confirmed!" he called out.

"Whew!" Count said. "I was in a cold sweat there for a moment. Maybe don't scare us like that again, Trigger, and take the target down faster, huh?"

Naomi rolled her eyes, catching her breath before she answered him. "Hilarious. You think you were sweating, try taking on those crazy bastards…those guys were good, I'm not gonna lie." She shuddered, looking over her shoulder at the smoke that remained from the downed enemy aircraft. She felt cold all of a sudden. "I've never seen enemy pilots just take fire for one another like that. Either they really cared for one another, or they really wanted that mission to succeed…I wonder what would have happened if they had."

"Let's not think about that," Húxiān said quickly, sounding more than a little tired. "Let's just get back to base already. I'm freaking exhausted."

* * *

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
**1900hrs.**

After a long day and an exhausting dogfight that included some random woman sending a death threat over the radio and chasing down some psychos with a weapon of mass destruction, Naomi had been hoping to receive a warm welcome when they got back to base. From everyone else, they might have gotten a regular, nice welcome home, but when they arrived at HQ, the brigadier general seemed to be in a grouchy mood. Wiseman, Long Caster, and Naomi's father all stood at the front of the room with Clemens. Jaeger, Tailor, Fencer, Skald, and Lanza were all sitting, spread out among two different rows as they chatted about the mission. Bandog and Avril had even found a way to get in on the debriefing, sitting a row behind the pilots, and it seemed like they already had some sort of an idea of what happened.

The chatter among their friends ceased as Strider Squadron entered the room. They filed out in the row that Bandog and Avril were sitting in. Avril was sitting between Bandog and Tabloid, and Húxiān took the seat beside Spare Squadron's former AWACS, while Naomi sat in between Tabloid and Count. Fencer, Jaeger, and Tailor all turned around to face them, but Skald and Lanza had already been sitting on the chairs at that angle to talk to the others. It was Fencer who spoke up first, his previously injured arm propped up on the back of his chair. "We heard that the _Alicorn_ got away. That smug brigadier general seemed pretty pissed when he found out. Started chewing Commander Hawkins out in his office before the Colonel sent him out for Wiseman to deal with."

"Yeah, the commander isn't too thrilled about having this guy around," Tailor said, glancing towards the front of the room. His expression was almost nervous. "I can't say I blame him. I bumped into him in the mess hall and he lit into me for not immediately acknowledging his rank or some bullcrap like that. Jaeger and Fencer had to step in and make some excuse for me." He glared at Fencer, who was stifling a laugh. "Did you have to tell him that I only spoke Sapinish? Because I don't know Sapinish. I asked how he was doing in _Erusean_ for crying out loud!"

"Hey, you're lucky that the guy's too stupid and self-absorbed to realize that," Fencer said with a smirk, motioning towards Clemens.

Count scoffed. "Heh. I have to agree with you on that, Fencer. I've only ever met one person as incompetent at his job as that guy. I know his type. People like that only care about their rank and lording it over on people." Bandog shifted at his words, but Count didn't notice. He glanced over at Tailor with a curious, almost interested look. "But, on an unrelated not, I didn't know you spoke Erusean, kid. _Moi aussi_. I think that's pretty cool, actually. Not really a popular language right now, though."

Tailor's eyes seemed to light up as if he'd just met his new best friend, but he didn't get a chance to answer as Jaeger brought them all back on topic. "But, whether or not we like this…Clemens guy, it doesn't really matter. What matters is that we should have had the advantage in that battle today. We should have caught them by surprise. But they were ready for us." Jaeger glanced around, eyeing the general with a surprisingly dark look that Naomi wasn't used to seeing from him. "Someone's selling us out. Unfortunately, as much as I hate to bring this up for you guys—" he looked at Tabloid, Naomi, Count, Avril, and Bandog with a sympathetic and apologetic look on his face, "—I think that we might have another spy on our hands."

Naomi sighed, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. "And I'll bet everything I have that it's Clemens."

Just as she said this, their conversation was cut short as Clemens cleared his throat and brought all eyes to him. "Well, regardless of the change in the mission objective, and the loss of several ships from our fleet, the operation was a success," he said to them. He seemed reluctant as he added some praise to the end of his statement, "And…Strider Squadron did well, even if we did still have to babysit you. I expect more from you next time, and Captain Foulke, I want you to start acting worthy of the command you were given. As for you squadron, I expect them to start following orders and working together with more ease. But there's time to work on that before the next operation. Stand by for further orders. Dismissed."

She saw Count tense, and Tabloid roll his eyes. Húxiān, further down, let out a quiet groan of frustration at this, but didn't say anything in her defense. What point was there? Clemens was just going to continue claiming that they were disrespectful. But as everyone started to get up, Tabloid spoke up, getting their commanders' attention. "Hey, hold up a second here. We still don't know who those bats were! You know, the one that came over the radio and started threatening Trigger? Why were they going after her like that? And not to mention, they were using Osea's radio frequency."

"Hey, we heard about that," Skald spoke up now, looking surprised, worried, and curious all at once. "You mean they were on our side?"

Clemens scoffed. "Oh, please. That's impossible. They didn't respond to our IFF." He paused, and he narrowed his eyes on Naomi. She shifted uncomfortable under his gaze for a moment, before he let out a dry laugh and looked around at the others again. "Unless, of course, maybe they were there to settle some sort of personal score." His expression and tone went serious again as he looked over Naomi, Tabloid, and Count with some suspicion. He even glanced at Bandog and Avril. "There isn't anything unusual at being shot in the back by an ally."

Naomi saw Count flinch and take a deep breath. She rubbed his arm and offered a reassuring smile, but he pulled his arm away from her and sighed. "Not unusual, you say? Heh. That's a pleasant thought." He tried to joke, even giving a forced laugh, but it was clear that he was recalling Full Band's death. Bandog seemed to realize this too, as he stood back with an awkward look on his face. Count continued though, looking thoughtful, as though he was trying to figure out who the strangers could have been. "I mean, I guess it might have been that way where we came from, but…you know what I'm sayin', Trigger?"

She nodded, and was about to say something else, but the video feed of David North popped up on the screen, making them all remember that he'd been there. "_Everyone, while we're on this subject, I have a question for you all._"

Clemens was quick to try and shut him down, motioning to Long Caster for him to hang up. "That's enough. Remove him from the call."

Long Caster was about to follow the order, but North frantically said, "_Wait, wait, don't hang up on me yet!_"

"Let's hear what he has to say." Wiseman nodded for Long Caster to step back, and Clemens let out an irritated growl. Naomi actually found it kind of fun to watch his authority undermined like that. Wiseman didn't care one way or the other. He'd met McKinsey, and dealt with him. Clemens was a lot like McKinsey, and Naomi was glad that they had Wiseman there to not let the guy give them any crap.

North glanced over at Wiseman on his own screen with a grateful look. Adjusting his glasses, he began with his questions. "_How did they know that we had intelligence on their weapons of mass destruction? They never would have taken such actions if they didn't know. They had to be aware of it to some extent._"

Jaeger and the other pilots all shared a tired, knowing look with Naomi and those that had flown with Strider Squadron that day, and Lanza was the only one to voice the frustration that everyone was feeling, "They have a spy…"

"Ha! Ridiculous idea if you ask me, but better to be suspicious than not, I suppose…" Clemens crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, but Naomi caught a flash of worry on his face just before a scowl replaced it. She noticed that her father and Wiseman also seemed to notice it, and they both glanced Naomi's way as if questioning her about it. She gave an indication that she did, giving them a subtle nod which she saw her father return. Count and Tabloid looked at her curiously, but she didn't tell them about it. She'd let them in on it later.

North went on. "_At the very least, we have to assume that from here on out the enemy knows everything that we do. We'll have to be careful with our next operation._"

"Right. We'll keep that in mind," Wiseman said, nodding. It seemed that he was eager to wrap the debriefing up. "Thanks for your help, North. Let us know if you find anything else out." North nodded, reassuring them that he would, before he hung up the call himself. Wiseman turned to Clemens. "Well, general, I'd like to give the kids a nice break tonight and I'm pretty sure that sitting around here isn't going to cut it. So as much fun as this little debriefing was, if you'd have anything else to say then could you just cut to the chase?"

"Fortunately, I think that about cuts it. I'm going to be taking a break myself. Once I handle some necessary paperwork. And I'd advise you to do the same, but I doubt you'd listen." Clemens looked Wiseman up and down distastefully, but the company commander maintained his friendly smile and didn't seem bothered by Clemens' behavior at all. At last, he gave in, and began to leave, marching away from Wiseman and grumbling under his breath as he went. Everyone spread out to give him space, but he stopped by Bandog and glared at him before sneering all of a sudden. "Well. I didn't realize a low life like you was here too, Marsh. They'll welcome any old sob story into this place, won't they?"

Everyone looked at Bandog, each one just as confused as the other. Bandog sighed, avoiding eye contact as he gave a stiff nod in greeting. "Clemens. I see you're still as crooked as you ever were. At least your nose is straight again."

Clemens scowled. "I'd watch your mouth if I were you. Remember that I've been promoted since then. And what was the job they had you doing? Babysitting a dog and a bunch of convicts?" It was Bandog's turn to scowl, clenching his fist and looking away from the brigadier general. Clemens wore a smug look in place of his scowl and chuckled. "Yeah, I thought so. At least you've learned your place since then. I had a feeling McKinsey would sort you out. I'll see you around, then." With that, Clemens continued on his way, leaving Bandog practically fuming although he didn't say anything. Everyone watched him leave, some of them too startled by the exchange to say much.

They stood in stunned silence for a moment before Húxiān finally spoke up, asking the question on everyone's mind at that moment. "So, what was up with that? You two know each other?" she asked, the last question more out of surprise than anything, looking at Bandog with a look that Naomi couldn't quite understand.

But Bandog didn't seem comfortable talking about it, and he looked around with uncertainty. The last time Naomi had seen him this nervous was when he'd been telling them about his and Full Band's stupid plan that had ended with Full Band's death. He cleared his throat, looking around at them before straightening up and putting on his usual poker face. "Yeah, I know the guy. He, uh…he used to be my CO before I was transferred to Spare." He shrugged, acting as though it didn't bother him even though it did. It was weird seeing him act like this. "We didn't really get along. The guy really is an ass."

Húxiān looked as though she wanted to press the matter, not looking convinced with what he'd given them to work with, but they didn't get a chance to ask any other questions. Wiseman, Long Caster, and Naomi's dad were all approaching them, each seeming pretty relaxed and in a good mood in spite of the stress from earlier that day. Naomi's father put his arm around her shoulder as he reached her to give her a hug, and Wiseman was grinning from ear to ear as he clapped Count on the back, while Long Caster stood off to the edge of the crowd with a smile on his face. Bandog's situation was quickly forgotten (and he seemed fine with this) as Wiseman began to talk.

"Well, that was a job well done today, Strider," he said to them with a grin, looking around at them, practically beaming with pride. It seemed like you'd have to do something incredibly stupid to earn any disappointment from Wiseman, and Naomi should have realized that sooner after having experienced it first hand. Regardless of everything that happened during that battle, in the end Wiseman seemed to think they'd done more good than harm. This was only enforced further as he continued. "I spoke with Commander Hawkins, and he agreed to give us all the night off and handle the paperwork himself. Provided that we're ready if needed, we get to stretch our legs off base some. Y'all in? I'll pay for dinner."

They all were quick to agree after he said that, perhaps a little too quick, as he looked around suspiciously. "What would you have said if I didn't agree to pay?" he asked them, but no one had a good answer. He shrugged it off, and together they set off for the door.

They had a long day and now they were getting a much deserved break. And yet Naomi had a feeling that she'd have a hard time relaxing after that mission. Everything just came out of nowhere, and Naomi had the feeling that this was only the beginning of what was shaping up to be a very stressful serious of operations. They still had to reach Farbanti, and now they had a submarine on the loose, and they lost all those ships, and now they had _more_ spies to deal with. _How are we supposed to handle all of this?_ Naomi took a deep breath, trying to push the thought away. She shouldn't worry about that. Tonight, she was pretty much free of any responsibility and it was time to unwind a bit and worry about less urgent topics.

She smiled to herself. _I wonder what else besides pizza we can have for dinner. Or if there's more pizza variety…yeah, that one could work too_. "Hey, Long Caster! Got anything else besides pizza you'd recommend from that bistro by any chance?"


	29. Lying In Wait

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Lying In Wait

|...|...|...|

**Spring Sea, Usean Coast.**  
_**September 4th, 2019.**_  
**1644hrs.**

|...|...|...|

"Salvation—"

The transmission was cut to static rather abruptly, and the pilot never got to finish what he was going to say. The Alicorn's crew sat in silence for a moment until their captain spoke up. "What just happened?"

Captain Matias Torres had watched as the four blips on the Alicorn's radar vanished suddenly right before they escaped the combat airspace. Just gone, in the blink of an eye. He had a feeling that he knew what happened, but he didn't want to lose all hope just yet. Torres eyed the command duty officer as he waited for an answer, feeling disappointment and anger starting to creep up. The officer nervously checked with other members working on the bridge, then checked radar and the footage from the camera that they had attached to the aircraft so they could watch their plan unfold. At last, he turned around in his chair and answered the captain in a careful voice, "It...it seems they were shot down by Three Strikes."

Torres drew in a shaky breath and took a few steps over to look down at the controls and the different screens, all displaying that the Alicorn's squadron had been shot down and what would have been Torres' defining moment as a captain of a now separate faction — what would have finally set him apart from those that came before him with a similar goal — was lost with them. "The damn bastard ruined it..." he seethed, leaning forward slightly and staring down at the radar that displayed blips of the remaining Osean and the retreating Erusean forces. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, but the more he did this the angrier he became.

His crewmen all exchanged worried looks, the command duty officer finally speaking up, concern lacing his voice, "Captain?"

"Don't you see?" There was a pause and Torres began to slowly lose his composure. Everyone on the bridge froze and then flinched as Torres slammed his fist down onto the screen. It was loud and echoed throughout the room but the screen remained unharmed in spite of the impact. But that wasn't Torres' concern. He couldn't care less if he broke the damned thing. He let out a frustrated growl and jerked upright, eyes still fixed to the radar as he watched the Osean aircraft finally withdraw. His voice rose. "She walked all over it with her DIRTY BOOTS! Over the CRISP, WHITE SHEETS OF MY BED THAT I HAD JUST MADE!"

His breath caught in his throat for a moment and he let out a short cough and allowed his breathing to slow moment by moment as he pulled himself together. He had a plan. He had to have a plan. Torres looked around the bridge as the crew seemed to relax slightly, though anxiety seemed to glitter in their eyes. A small smile crept onto his face and he interlocked his hands behind his back as he began to pace slowly. He chuckled. "Let's have this Three Strikes assist in our next plan," he said to them. "Three Strikes will make a fine sideshow in our scheme to kill a million people..." Torres' eyes narrowed on the command duty officer, his expression hardening. "Or was it the plan to save ten million lives, Command Duty Officer?"

"To save ten million lives, sir," the officer answered as though it should have been common knowledge. He looked unsure for a moment. "But sir...Osea has Three Strikes...how are we supposed to use her in our own plan? Oseans are known for being stubbornly devoted to their country. Almost as much as Belka. You'd never be able to get her to assist you."

Torres raised an eyebrow and smiled again. "Oh, she'll be assisting us. But she won't be aware of it. You see, we're going to slowly tip the odds in our favor and Three Strikes can take care of the Erusean forces that may try and get in our way." He paused, quickly thinking of a way to motivate and explain to his men how their plan would be able to work. Recalling one of his favorite pastimes, he continued, "Think of it as a fast paced game of chess. White moves first, coming up with a quick strategy to start the game and challenge their opponent. Black goes next and is given more time to strategize instead of making a split second decision. I like to sacrifice a pawn right at the start to test the waters. The pawn still holds value, regardless of what one might tell you. They lead the charge and their fate can help you determine possible outcomes — whether you're fighting an aggressive player that acts on chance or a more merciful one that waits for a better opportunity to make a more meaningful kill.

"This gives you the upper hand as you can calculate your next moves according to what kind of an opponent you have." He paused to catch his breath, glancing around to make sure no one would interrupt. He went on. "Three Strikes is Osea's ace up their sleeve, so to speak. They've been parading this pilot around and they think that the extent of our knowledge is just that some Osean ace is wrecking Erusea's forces. Our intelligence, however, has managed to dig up everything except for her real name and age — well, Lieutenant Saxon has managed to get his hands on everything but that or so he says. We can use this information to our advantage — find out Three Strikes' weaknesses and exploit them in battle."

"But...how would you have any way of knowing this?"

Torres blinked in surprise as he heard the command duty officer's question, as though he thought he wasn't paying enough attention. It was a valid question. Torres had an idea how, but he wasn't sure if it would work or not. But it would be interesting. He waved the question off. "One step at a time, Command Duty Officer. One step at a time." He sighed as he took a seat, his legs aching slightly from the prolonged period of standing and pacing. "For now, we need to move on to the next part of our plan. Three Strikes made her move, so now it's time for us to make ours. We're going to get to play puppetmaster to a much larger scale game between Osea and Erusea. Let's find out what happens when some more valuable pieces are eliminated from Erusea's side of the board, shall we?"

The Command Duty Officer seemed to pause and think about it for a moment longer. "And how are we to go about _that_?"

"Get me in touch with Lieutenant Saxon as soon as you can," Torres answered, evading the question. He wasn't happy about killing their fellow countrymen, but they refused to see reason. Besides, it wasn't as if they were being killed by Torres and his crew. They were just setting them up for it. Whatever it took for them to finally learn and throw down their weapons. Torres took a moment, resting his head in his head as he stared ahead. "He has the contacts within the Osean chain of command that we lack. I have no doubt that he'll be more than willing to continue assisting us, don't you agree?" He didn't wait for an answer from the officer, and he didn't give him one. "The world will finally see, and we're all about to bring about a new era of peace."

* * *

**Erusean Air Base, Near Expo City.**  
_**September 5th, 2019.**_  
**0600hrs.**

Two figures stood side by side outside of an old hangar, their only source of light coming from the inside. It was still dark, seeing as how early in the morning it was, and the sky was still a dark blue and only just starting to get lighter as the morning continued. Stars were starting to fade away, but dark clouds were starting to form and told the base's residents to prepare for any unexpected weather. A cold breeze continued to consistently sweep the base, bringing leaves from nearby trees with it. The smell of rain carried with it, which meant that the rest of the week most likely wouldn't go without a storm. Everyone was starting to bring aircraft and other vehicles inside as a result, apparently not wanting to have to deal with cleanup after a storm.

Although activity around base was beginning to pick up, they avoided the hangar where the odd pair were standing. That was 'their' hangar and their signature aircraft were housed within. And _only_ their aircraft. It wasn't as though the duo were any more or less odd as the rest of the base. In fact, one could consider them normal if not for their personalities. The base itself was headed by a colonel in support of one of Erusea's political leaders, General Parrish, and it was home to Eruseans that disagreed with their conservative countrymen and Oseans that had defected either out of fear, hatred, or because Parrish and his supporters managed to buy them out for intel. A ragtag base made up of former Oseans and soon to be considered 'loyalist' Eruseans, all of them hailing from the Air Force all the way down to the Coast Guard.

But these two particular pilots were part of a mercenary unit headed by no particular country. No one knew much about them, and no one had the nerve to ask. They appeared to be twins, both of them bearing the same sharp features and an almost intimidating height. They had more in common than just their height and build, also sporting the same icy blue eyes and unruly blonde hair, making it even more obvious that they were related. They were never apart, and if they were apart it wasn't for very long. Even their temperament matched, both of them being short tempered and quick for a fight. But the brother — known by his TAC name, Rage — was the more grounded and patient of the two in spite of his name. His sister, Scream, always followed his lead for the most part but never lost the permanently irritated attitude.

They fought for neither Osea nor Erusea, seeming to hate both of them, and simply set up base with whichever was the highest bidder. Were an Osean to approach them and tell them to take out an Erusean, or even another Osean, they'd gladly accept. In fact, that was why they were there. They'd been hired by an Osean — more than one, actually — to take out the Osean ace Three Strikes. One of their employers had defected to Erusea, and since the siblings had a common enemy with the Eruseans, they were allowed to stay there. That wasn't to say that they didn't face hostility because of this. Several Eruseans didn't trust having them there, and several of the Osean defectors didn't either. They steered clear, and the siblings were happy this way. Or their 'allies' assumed that they were happy.

Right now, though, it was obvious that neither of them were happy. And they hadn't been since they'd returned from their sortie the day before. Rage had been avoiding talking to his sister as much as possible, and if he couldn't avoid it then he kept his comments short and to the point. She could tell that he was upset with her, and being the more talkative of the two the silent treatment was obviously getting to her. As they stood side by side in the light of the hangar, their shadows and the shadows of their Berkuts stretching out across the pavement, Scream couldn't stand still. Rage kept his eyes on the sky, ignoring his sister's antsy movements as she tried to find a way to cope with the awkward silence.

Distant chatter from the crewmen and their movements had briefly caught her attention, but it wasn't long before she began to scrape her boot across the ground and sigh in frustration. It was something she'd done as far back as Rage could remember. He knew the tactic well, having tried it once or twice himself. Whenever Rage was upset and didn't speak with his sister, she realized that she could annoy him into talking. She would refuse to leave him alone with his thoughts and act as childish and loud as she could until he'd finally demand that she stop. He'd become mostly resistant to it now that he was older and they were both adults, but she hadn't done it in a while and he was finding it hard to cope with.

He glanced down at her foot as she continued to stamp and scrape at the ground like some kind of caged animal. Over and over and over again. _Just like when we were kids...ugh_. At last he'd had enough. With a jerking movement, he whipped his head around to look directly at her, scowling. That was exactly what she wanted, judging by how the sound immediately ceased and she stood still with an innocent look on her face. Although she could probably guess what he wanted, he snapped at her anyways. "Would you just stop already? Jesus! You're driving me insane!"

Scream stuck out her lower, pierced lip, forming an overly exaggerated pout. "C'mon, Rage! I'm _boooored_."

That was her only defense? Rage wondered, rolling his eyes and scoffing as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "That's not my problem," he replied shortly, turning his attention back to the sky and attempting to ignore her again. Maybe now she'd give up.

"What _is_ your problem?" Of course she didn't give up. Now she was taking advantage of the window that he'd opened up. _Idiot_.

"What do you mean by that?" Rage asked her, glancing her way and maintaining his scowl.

"I mean that you've been acting weird ever since we got back from that fight," Scream replied quickly, almost letting out her own scoff of disbelief. Instead she gave him an intent, frustrated look. "You didn't talk to me on the flight back, you didn't talk to me when we landed, then you skipped dinner and went straight to bed, and _now_ you're ignoring me." She tilted her head to one side, the hair that was typically styled to fall in front of the right side of her face falling away and allowing her to look at him clearly. "Can't the mighty Rage tell me what's wrong instead of acting like a little child?"

Rage snorted. "You're one to talk about acting like a child, Scream." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. She wasn't about to let the topic go, and he had a lot of pent up anger about what had happened during their sortie. Might as well go ahead and get it out. Taking a deep breath, he decided to just let go. He'd never not been honest with her before, especially when he was mad at her. "But you really wanna know what my problem is? My problem is that you disobeyed me during the operation. You shot down an Erusean fighter, wasting missiles on him — which are supplies that I have to pay for, by the way. Then when I finally get you to sync up with me, you decide to not listen when I gave you an order and got yourself shot. Now we have repairs and you might have cost us the entire deal. That's why we're out here. Because I had to call a meeting with the morons that hired us to make sure that your screw up isn't going to cost us more than it already has."

He caught her reaction, and just for a moment his sister almost looked hurt by the comment. Scream crossed her arms and frowned, looking away from him as she spoke, "Jeez, sorry. It's not my fault that you were too busy dancing with Three Strikes wingman to actually go through with the original plan. I did my part and opened her up for a shot while you were too busy chasing after that goon..."

"There you go, trying to turn every mistake you make back around on me!" Rage threw up his hands in exasperation, scoffing as he did. "You know that if I hadn't made the call to retreat then you'd be dead? I saved your life and I don't even get a 'thank you' for putting up with all this shit." It sounded as if Scream mumbled an apology and Rage let out a defeated sigh. He wasn't good at 'deep' talks but he was starting to feel bad about yelling at her. "Look, it's just you and I, Scream. It's been like that for years now. You've got to stop being so reckless. What if Three Strikes had actually shot you down, huh? I'm harsh on you because I don't want to lose you, and I very well could have yesterday. I need to know that I can count on you to listen to me and stop taking so many unnecessary risks."

"You worry too much, Rage," Scream said flippantly, waving it off. "We'll be fine. It's not like this is our first job."

"It's the first one where we've taken down an ace like Three Strikes. Remember what one of those guys said: do not underestimate Three Strikes," Rage replied. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he felt another cold wind blow past. Shivering slightly, he took a deep breath and continued. "For once someone actually studied their target and gave us some insight. Heh. Guy was right. Three Strikes won't shoot down a retreating aircraft. Or rather, it's rare that she does. I have to wonder what kind of a person would be so awful that your own former commanding officer wants you dead, though. Or what kind of an officer would want one of their own subordinates dead..."

"Oh please, like we don't know the type." Scream also shivered, trying to play it off like she wasn't cold as she shifted her position a few times. She glanced at Rage with a scowl on her face. "You know what they call guys like him? A shitbag."

Rage rolled his eyes. Scream hadn't been shy about hiding her distaste for their 'employers' and openly mocked and called them names, whether they were present or not. Rage was tired of arguing with her on it and he was tired of hearing the same string of insults. 'Shitbag' was a new one, though. "Alright, fine, he's a shitbag," he conceded. He put on a small smile as he added in a somewhat hushed tone, "But regardless of that, he pays well."

"Yeah, that's true," Scream chirped. She gave an almost menacing chuckle. "I mean, c'mon? Full price? They must really want her dead."

"You've seen the havoc that Three Strikes has caused," Rage pointed out. "Why _wouldn't_ they want her dead? She's a menace, and so long as she's in the skies the world is never going to know peace. Just fear and chaos. It's pilots like her that end up shaping the world, and it's rarely in a good way..." There was more that he wanted to say, but he stopped it as he noticed two figures approaching them. He sighed. Just the people that they were waiting for. He looked to Scream again. "Okay, this time could you watch your mouth, Scream? They hate us enough as it is."

"Pfft! Oh, please. Like I'm the reason for that." Scream fixed her gaze on the approaching men, very disinterested. "I just don't like the guy. If you're going to betray your country, you shouldn't keep all the titles and medals you earned while you were their little lapdog. Now he's _Erusea's_ lapdog but still dresses like some stuffy old Osean colonel."

"He _is_ a stuffy old Osean colonel. You're right, though." Rage went quiet as soon as the pair were within earshot of the siblings' conversation. He lowered his voice so only they could hear as he added, "Just let me do the talking."

He took a moment just to look over the pair and their appearance, and sure enough, Scream was spot on with her description. The older of the two, Three Strikes' former commander, was shorter and wore an Osean uniform, complete with the country's flag and his rank and name at the time that he escaped from the military police's custody. The other still held his rank in Osea, and had wanted to hire them simply to get Three Strikes out of the way for his own reasons, all of which were the exact opposite of personal. It was entirely business with him. Unlike his companion, he wore a navy blue suit with a matching tie and had a more distinguished air about him. Of the two of them, he was definitely the easiest to tolerate.

They exchanged a very forced, polite greeting between the four of them, Rage gave Scream a pointed look as a silent reminder to keep her behavior in check. This led to very exaggerated and quite obviously sarcastic politeness. Both men brushed it off with a deep breath and an agitated look, but they didn't bring it up and it seemed as though they wanted to cut right to the chase. The younger of the two — Brigadier General Clemens, if Rage remembered correctly — looked between the two of them, and his eyes gave away how tired he was. "I don't have the time for any small talk. I had to drive to Expo City last minute and I want to hurry the return trip along before anyone realizes that I'm gone," he said quickly. "I also want to know that the money we paid you isn't going to go to waste."

Rage pretended to be confused. "Why would you think that it would?"

The older of the two and the one that knew Three Strikes personally — technically former Colonel McKinsey — scoffed at this. "You can stop with the bullshit. You know damn well why we'd think that," he said. He always spoke in an irritable, aggressive tone and seemed constantly pissed off and full of himself. Rage gritted his teeth to keep from saying anything that he might regret and allowed McKinsey to continue. "I have a personal stake in this, and I know that in some way you do too. So explain to me why Three Strikes is still alive and why you ran from that fight like you did?"

"Our planes took damage, but we can just get her on the next run." Rage answered simply with a shrug. He paused and narrowed his eyes. "Or is the contract terminated? I should warn you, we don't offer refunds."

McKinsey didn't seem impressed by that. "Look, I gave you all valuable information. I practically handed you Trigger on a silver platter, and this is how you repay me? Even you, Clemens, and the general that was stupid enough to give you funding." Clemens looked a bit put off by the comment, and frowned as McKinsey went on. "We all want Three Strikes dead. She ruined my career, killed countless people in her attacks, and she's becoming a crutch to both Osean and Erusean forces. Osea relies on their aces too much and Erusea relies on her appearance as an excuse to escape from a battle. They're both becoming lazy. As for you two...I have no idea what you get out of this, but the point is that it's personal for all of us so I want you to do whatever you have to in order to kill Trigger."

Scream seemed on board with that, seeming to perk up and ball her fist as though she was eager for a fight whether in the air or on the ground. Clemens didn't look as sure of this, but he didn't argue much. "I want to talk to Lieutenant General Shepherd first," he replied, citing yet another Osean that was in on the deal. Rage resisted the urge to groan in annoyance. Oseans were so frustrating to deal with sometimes, always having to go through the most complex channels possible for a simple operation. Clemens seemed to sense their annoyance, as McKinsey was not so good in hiding it, and he rushed to justify his plan. "Look, this is mostly his dime that I'm on. He gave me the funding and this is all my idea. We needed some extra cash and you—" he nodded towards McKinsey, "—stepped in and offered the rest because you wanted payback. But I'm just as much an authority as you are. I have the right to postpone it if I want."

"Fine. Do whatever you like. Just remember that if I get too impatient, I have plenty of dirt on you and General Shepherd that I could anonymously let slip. Believe it or not, you aren't that important and you're not that high up the chain of command." McKinsey spoke with an obvious air of superiority about him, in spite of being outranked by the Brigadier General. It didn't seem to bother him, and Rage knew that he was older and in spite of his rank probably had more experience in such matters. Knowing his past, Rage also suspected that he had plenty more experience in blackmail. The pompous old colonel looked over at Rage and his sister next and fixed them with an almost threatening look. "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, so I'll be around to tell you what Clemens and Shepherd finally decide. Until we achieve the result that we want or until we decide if your services are still needed, ultimately you're under our command. Or rather, _my_ command. Given the hellhole that I helped pull you out of, I'm hoping that won't be an issue."

Rage and Scream both tensed at his comment, not liking the feeling of being under anyone's command least of all McKinsey's. They had plenty of experience dealing with people like him and they didn't want to go back to it. But Rage recognized that they had to play along, as though they actually planned on submitting to either one's authority. He dipped his head almost in a respectful manner, earning the shock of his sister. "Of course, Colonel," he said, ignoring Scream's growing confusion and anger. "Whatever you say. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some preparations for our next meeting with Three Strikes. Including some research on her wingmen should we run into them again. And I'm sure that Clemens needs to make it back to the LRSSG before anyone gets suspicious. Wouldn't want them to know where you were all night, would you?"

Clemens let out an irritated huff. "They won't be an issue," he said, tugging on his suit jacket a bit as he was met for the first time by the wind that had been plaguing the base all morning. "I probably should be going though. At least if I make it back by breakfast then the security guards probably won't say anything to the base commander." He took a deep breath, fiddling with his tie and smoothing out his suit and hair as he turned to McKinsey. "We'll be in touch. We may have to raise the price and I'm sure that General Shepherd would appreciate anything extra you can offer. In the meantime, keep your head down and I'll try and keep the LRSSG from finding out you're involved."

"Wouldn't be the worst thing ever if they did." McKinsey chuckled. He glanced at Rage and Scream. "It'd give me an excuse to get rid of Trigger myself and look her in the eyes when I do. It'd be the perfect revenge, hehe...but my hands are dirty enough as it is. Anyways. You better get going. I'll call if anything changes." With a firm handshake and a quick nod, plus a glare sent towards Rage and Scream, Clemens was off and he left McKinsey with the twins. They watched him leave before McKinsey sighed and looked their way again. "I'll get together the rest of the files I have on Three Strikes and her wingmen. I want you to study them, and next time you better finish the job."

Rage put on a smug smile as McKinsey turned away from them. "But of course. We wouldn't want anyone thinking we screwed up, now would we?" His comment received no answer as McKinsey continued on his way, not bothering to look back at them as he went. Rage promptly wiped the smile off of his face, changing it to a sneer as he let out a groan of disgust. "That McKinsey really should learn to watch his back. It's how he got into this dump anyways. God, I'm tired of this war."

He turned around and ventured into the hangar, doing a quick scan of the room to check for the tools they'd need for repairs and some new adjustments to their ECM. If they got this wrong then it would be the end of their career. They'd come to far to just drop it now, and they needed a way to ensure that their reputation was a good one among their peers. Taking down the wannabe hero Three Strikes was a perfect way to do that. Scream, however, was more interested in the fact that they seemed to be submitting to authority. And an Osean's authority at that.

She followed him into the hangar with a shocked, almost offended look on her face. "You want to tell me why you just rolled over and took the Oseans' crap like that?" she asked him, tilting her head to one side and narrowing her eyes. Scream placed her hands on her hips and waited for a response, chewing at her lip piercing as she did. Rage looked at her as though he didn't understand what she was talking about, and truth be told he had expected his sister of all people to understand his subtle behavior and reactions. Apparently they couldn't read each other as flawlessly as everyone — including themselves — liked to think. _So much for twin telepathy_.

"Well, you want to take down Three Strikes, don't you?" Rage asked her at last and she nodded. "Well then we have to play the game. Osea's the highest bidder right now. If we get a better offer, we take it, be it from more Oseans or even from the Eruseans. Once we get enough, we'll strike out on our own and look for someone else to take out. There's always a bigger fish, you just gotta know where to look for 'em. And if they terminate their contract with us, we've still got their money. With or without it, we're doing this, though."

"That doesn't explain why you just let those idiots walk all over you," Scream replied.

"I want them to think they have the upper hand. They're playing a game, albeit not as political of one as I was expecting," Rage said as he picked up a couple of tools and inspected them, trying to make a mental list of what all they'd need to use. "You have to play along, or at least make it seem like you are. What they don't realize is that we've already got their money. We work by our own conditions, not theirs, especially now. Even if it doesn't trick them into some sort of false sense of security, it's still fun to watch them squirm when you don't do what they want."

Scream seemed satisfied with the answer and finally seemed to get it, grinning suddenly. "I like the way you think, Rage."

Rage smiled as well. "Good, that was the plan all along. Now why don't you give me a hand with this so we can get repairs done faster?"

"That way of thinking, I don't like so much..." Scream said with an annoyed huff, but reluctantly accepted the pair of tools that he handed her and walked off to go and work on her plane.

Rage shook his head as he watched his sister go. "Yeah, didn't think you would...heh...idiot."

* * *

**New Arrows Air Base, Eastern Usea.**  
_**September 7th, 2019.**_  
**1221hrs.**

Everyone around base could tell that something wasn't right. There had been a noticeable shift in the mood around base, and the usually confident and carefree soldiers were suddenly suspicious and anxious about the whole operation. Of course, any rumors and discussion had been shut down by their esteemed guest. He'd barely been there over a day, and already Clemens had made it clear that until the problem was resolved there was no speculations to be had. It was odd that he called it a 'problem' after saying that the mission had been a success. The _Alicorn_ got away and they lost most of their fleet. It didn't sound like a success, but whenever someone other than the brigadier general pointed this out they were quickly reprimanded. At least, whenever he was in earshot of it. There were to be no secrets and no conspiracy theories.

Of course, Clemens spent surprisingly little time bringing himself down to their 'level'. Count and Bandog had both joked that he was too good to mingle with the commoners and everyone had come to start calling the guy 'His Highness' considering the way he acted as though everyone was supposed to worship the ground he walked on. Everyone could tell that there was some extra tension between Clemens and Bandog, though, even if no one had the nerve to bring it up. Bandog went out of his way to diss the guy, and if they were unlucky enough to carry out a conversation then Bandog would always make a few jabs at him. It was weird, but no one had the nerve to bring it up after he shut down Húxiān when she asked about it.

In spite of all of this, everyone seemed to continue mostly like normal. All of the pilots went about their regular duties and everyone talked about whatever they wanted to. Everyone met in the mess hall for lunch as usual, and things were as noisy as they always were. No one complained though. Fencer was speaking with Tailor about his own flying style, which included a lecture on when not to push your luck with a damaged plane and when you could possibly make it. Jaeger joined in every now and then, but he seemed content with sharing stories with Tabloid, Lanza, and Skald. Húxiān and Bandog were listening to said stories, throwing in a few questions here and there, while Count sat next to Naomi and seemed to be paying close attention to the TV (which was — unsurprisingly — playing OBC). Avril sat on Naomi's other side, seeming to pay little attention to anything other than what she was writing down. Naomi guessed it was some request for new supplies, but didn't have any real desire to know what exactly it was.

But Naomi was paying about as much attention to everything going on around her as she could without feeling overwhelmed. There was a lot of conversation and then the information that the OBC's newscaster was giving them. Apparently someone in Osea had already gotten their hands on information regarding the _Alicorn_ and had somehow received permission from someone in the chain of command to write a story on it and broadcast it. Naomi knew that the Osean government would, surprisingly, be competent enough to keep any sensitive material under wraps, but she worried that OBC was poking its nose where it didn't belong. The last thing they needed was widespread panic throughout either Osea or on the Usean continent because a submarine got away. Everyone still vividly remembered the sub's predecessors, the Scinfaxi and its sister, the Hrimfaxi, and there was no telling how they'd react if they had a threat from that thing.

Naomi hadn't gotten much sleep over the last few nights, worrying too much about the submarine and whatever was up with their visitor. It seemed like every time they made progress and a step forward towards Farbanti, something was still going to come up. First they had to take care of one of the Arsenal Birds and then the IRBMs that Erusea pulled out of nowhere and now they had a submarine to chase down. So much for their plan to capture it. Now they'd have to hunt it down. It reminded her all to much of something out of some old war drama, like from a book she'd read or something like that. Either way, she had a hunch that it wasn't going to be easy to take it out.

"I wonder how long it's going to be before Clemens complains about the news playing this and gets the TV shut off," Count said with a laugh as he set his glass of soda down and crossed his arms. This got Naomi, Bandog, and Húxiān's attention, and the others slowly brought their own conversations to a halt to hear what he had to say. He shrugged at the sudden attention on him and went on without a care. "Seriously. It's like he doesn't want to admit that it's pretty much his fault that the operation didn't go as planned, and any reminder he gets sends him into some weird tantrum."

"Oh, please. Like you lot have anything to really complain about." Bandog gave a scoff, petting Sarge's head as she rested it on his lap. He kept his eyes on her as he spoke to everyone else. "Try being stuck with the guy as your commanding officer for months. He's pretty much like McKinsey but even more of a narcissist."

Everyone was thinking pretty much the same thing. There was an opportunity presenting itself to them. Everyone was curious about Bandog to some degree, but there was so little that he ever shared and his constantly being guarded typically made it hard to see him as anything more than a colleague. It was difficult to really accept him into a group or as a friend when you didn't know anything about him. But even when he shared personal things with them it always seemed like he was too uncomfortable to go any further. They sat in silence for a few seconds, as if waiting for someone else to ask first, but finally it was Húxiān that once again took the first step, glaring at the rest of them when she did. "You never did tell us what the deal with you and him is. I get why we don't like him, but what'd you do to piss the guy off? And vice versa?"

Bandog looked around at the others uncomfortably, then looked at Húxiān with a look that Naomi didn't understand and one that she'd never seen from him before. It was almost as if he was debating going into detail for a few minutes, but he finally just shrugged and looked back down at Sarge as she began to paw at his hand and ask for more attention. He went back to petting her as he answered Húxiān's question in the vaguest possible way. "A while back we had a difference of opinion and things escalated a little too quickly. He got promoted after it and I got reprimanded. Simple as that."

Húxiān frowned, obviously not satisfied with the answer. None of the others seemed to be either. Naomi especially. If there was anything they needed to know about Clemens, they had a right to ask him. Technically speaking, she or any of the others could just order him to give up the information, but Naomi wasn't sure that he'd listen. He'd probably just ignore the order anyways as payback for all the times that she, Count, and Tabloid ignored him in Spare Squadron. Naomi glanced around at the others and then over at Bandog. "Just a 'difference of opinion'? That's all there is to it?"

He scowled and adopted a rigid posture, clearly not happy with the prodding. "Yeah, it is." Bandog took a breath as if to keep his temper in check and went on. "Look, you all know as well as anyone how many self-absorbed jerks get promoted, while actually potentially good leaders are thrown off to the side and left to rot. McKinsey, Clemens, and who knows how many others. They're all the same. Good commanders that don't write you up for every tiny step out of line or any accident that they don't like? Yeah. Few and far between." He looked around the table, specifically at the members of Cyclops Squadron and grumbled, "You guys have no idea how lucky you are to have people like Hawkins and Wiseman in charge."

Count snorted. "Like they're any better," he said. Everyone turned to look at him, Húxiān seeming more angry at Count's comment than anyone else. Not bothered by everyone looking at him, he just chuckled. "You actually think that Wiseman doesn't benefit from us being in his squadron? Think about it. He swoops in like some knight and takes those that are 'troubled' or whatever under his wing, then let's 'em go out and blow shit up. He looks like a good guy and a good teacher and gets all the credit while those of us that do actual work get nothing out of it. Clemens and Wiseman are one in the same. Deep down you all know it, but you're too busy kissing his ass to care."

Tailor gave an indignant huff at this. "That's not entirely true, Lieutenant O'Connor. The major's never gotten a medal as far as I know."

"He deserves one, though," Skald said to them. He looked towards Count and frowned. "Trust me, Count. You'll feel the same way eventually."

Everyone nodded or said something in agreement, and Naomi noticed that Avril was the only one that appeared to agree with Count. She then noticed that he looked a little bothered by everyone disagreeing and a little unconvinced. He looked at her as if asking what she thought of it, and she noticed that the others did too. She shrugged. "I've met people like McKinsey and Clemens through most of my life. I've heard stories of people like them and Wiseman and Hawkins most certainly don't fit the bill for your average, stuck up military commander," she said to Count. "Maybe you think you're good enough on your own, Count, but you can't deny that we've already learned a lot from Wiseman and he _is_ a great pilot."

"Alright, so he's got skills. I can give him that, but we all know that the best players don't always make the best coaches," Count pointed out.

"Oh yeah, like _you_ could do any better, Count," Húxiān said, rolling her eyes at his comment.

"I can. I have." Count crossed his arms. "Let's not forget that _I_ won the competition the other day. Which reminds me...you and Trigger owe me fifty bucks."

Húxiān scowled. "You only one because Trigger stepped out of the competition. Otherwise you wouldn't have won shit."

"You've got to be able to put your money where your mouth's at, Count," Fencer put in, almost looking smug. He and Húxiān were the ones that were on Count's case the most. Fencer chuckled, seemingly amused by the entire conversation. "And before long you're going to have to accept that Wiseman and Trigger are the ones at the top around here. Even I can't beat 'em."

"Pssh! Yeah, right!" Count wasn't convinced at all, and seemed very determined to prove that he was right. No one was stepping in to stop an argument from escalating, but there wasn't any need to. It wasn't like this was a new discussion. It was the first time everyone had been involved, though. Naomi couldn't help but wonder why Count seemed to dislike Wiseman, or why they butted heads all the time. Then again, Count disliked just about everyone and everything, if not only for the sake of disliking it. He waved a hand dismissively. "Wiseman should hang back and let the younger generation have a shot for once. He's always hogging the spotlight and — like I said — getting credit for all the efforts we put in. I bet you that I've got twice the kills that Wiseman does and I'm stuck in his shadow."

"That kinda talk is gonna get you killed before long," Jaeger pointed out in an almost bored tone. His eyes betrayed some concern though. Sadness too. "I've seen too many cocky pilots think they knew better than their leader. In a split second of defiance they ended up getting themselves shot down. There's a point at which you have to accept that you have some shortcomings. Sometimes your elders really do know best."

"You know, the Strider 1 before Trigger was like that," Húxiān said, looking back and forth between Naomi and Count. Naomi sat up a little, listening more intently now. They rarely spoke about the members of the squadron that came before Naomi, Count, and Tabloid. Most she knew about them was that they died over Yinshi Valley. Húxiān continued. "He was a lot like you. Both of you, actually. Cocky, reckless, and he had a big mouth. Him thinking he was some tough guy that didn't need Wiseman was what got him killed."

"The old Strider 1 was killed before Yinshi, right? A little while before we met you, right?" Naomi asked and the others nodded. "What exactly happened to him?"

"Mr. X and his squadron happened. We were on our way back from our recon mission to Stonehenge when it happened. Mr. X showed up to intercept and Wiseman ordered everyone to run. None of us would have lasted in a fight with nothing but guns," Jaeger answered her question. "The old Strider 1 had been with us for a while, but he was always a little jealous of all the attention that Wiseman and Cyclops got. Wiseman and I both told him to just fly and look after his wingmen, but he decided he was going to face him alone. Started firing the machine gun head on. Mr. X fired a missile faster. It hit the cockpit and probably killed him instantly. That was when all of us high tailed it out of there."

"It's funny, Count. The two of you were a lot alike," Húxiān said. "Even down to the annoying as cocky laughter. And _you_, Trigger. You keep flying like you are and you might end up in the same boat as him."

Count and Naomi exchanged a look, but Count brushed off the comment. "We have nothing in common." He grinned suddenly. "And if any of you actually think that the new Strider 1 is gonna get replaced any time soon, you're wrong." She was surprised that Count was actually sticking up for her in some way, even if it was probably only because he wanted to disagree with everyone else. It was still reassuring that he had confidence in her, even if he was probably still upset that she got the number one position instead of him. Either way she gave him an almost playful nudge to get his attention and then followed it with a grateful smile. He glanced at her and seemed to try and force himself not to return the smile as he looked back at Húxiān and smirked as if waiting for her response.

Húxiān looked at them as they both looked at her, Naomi going for a cheeky grin while Count kept his smirk. She rolled her eyes and stifled a laugh. "Well, we'll just have to see. Only time will tell."

"Oh, trust me, nothing'll happen to these dumbasses," Avril said to her with a laugh, gesturing to Count, Naomi, and Tabloid. She focused solely on Tabloid for a moment before looking back down at what she'd been writing the entire conversation. "At least not so long as they keep Tabloid's favorite motto."

Everyone looked at him expectantly and he put on a dumb grin. "Stick with Trigger and you'll make it," he said, catching Naomi's eye and winking at her.

She shook her head and chuckled. Although she appreciated the faith that most of them seemed to have in her and her abilities, she wasn't as sure of it as they were. She also still felt as if it wasn't entirely true. Even in Spare — hell, all the way back in Mage — their allies still went down. Tabloid would probably argue that it was because they didn't stick with Trigger, but she could tell that some of them, even Count, were a bit dubious about it. And she'd stay skeptical herself. "You give me way too much credit," she said, trying not to let her own worries and doubt show as she spoke. Remembering Count's words from her first mission with Spare and even from the first time Tabloid had suggested they 'stick with Trigger', she chose to echo them with a lighter, more embarrassed tone. "It was all just dumb luck, Tabloid."

Count gave her a curious look, seeming to recognize the words himself. It wasn't like it wasn't a common thing to say about situations like that, but there was something about his expression that made her wonder if he was starting to reevaluate his way of thinking. Did he agree with Tabloid now? She looked over at Bandog, but he was just looking around at them all with a blank expression, giving no indication that he cared about what they were talking about now that they weren't arguing with Count. Lanza and Skald looked at each other and grinned as Lanza said, "Well, I wouldn't say that, boss. You've done a good job so far, and good old Tabloid's motto seems to have done us some good so far."

Even Húxiān nodded in agreement. "They're right, Trigger. I hate to admit it, but you've done a good job so far. And if Wiseman believes you can do it, then I won't question it." She glared at Count. "Even if I have my own doubts, I'll always trust my wingmate's judgement." The jab at Count was quite obvious, and Naomi was almost finding herself irritated by Húxiān's shift in behavior. She'd been in a bad mood since the mission, and with Clemens around it seemed to be made worse. Count wasn't an easy person to deal with, and he probably wasn't helping Húxiān any by arguing and insulting Wiseman. Naomi figured she should talk to them later, maybe order them to cooperate with the other like Wiseman had done.

"Well, enough arguing. There were a few things Wiseman wanted me to talk with you all about." Jaeger looked around before he continued talking, but all of them knew well to shut their mouths and listen when he had something to say and were more than willing to stay quiet and wait for him to continue. Once he was absolutely sure that it was safe, being on the cautious side for reasons that Naomi could probably guess had to do with Clemens, he started up again. "For one, we wanted to know as much about those two aircraft that engaged you over the port. The ones that took down an Erusean fighter and radioed you somehow, I mean. We know you've got a good memory, Trigger. Do you know anything that might be worth looking into? A tail code or any other markings by any chance?"

Naomi looked over at Count, almost silently asking if he'd seen anything. Getting the message, he shook his head in reply and Naomi looked down at her hands to try and recall what she could. Everything happened so fast, she'd been paying more attention to not dying than she had been to their markings. She did remember a few things, now that she had the chance to sit and look back on it. "Other than the false canopies and Osean roundels...I think they had some weird looking emblem on their tails...a bat, right? Kinda like what we were calling them."

"I didn't even see _that_ when I called them bats," Húxiān said, clearly surprised to hear they actually had a bat on their aircraft. Or what Naomi assumed was a bat. Húxiān explained, "It came from an old fable I heard when I was a girl. There was a war between birds and beasts, and the bats always sided with whichever side was winning. They'd side with the birds one minute, but when the tide of battle shifted, they'd ally with the beasts. When the war was over, both birds and beasts turned on them for their deceit and drove them into the darkness. The moral my mother always said the story had was that the deceitful have no friends, and having fickle loyalty is only going to screw _you_ over in the end."

"Damn. And I thought Jaeger was the storyteller..." Bandog said, sounding impressed with her story as he wore a thoughtful look on his face. "Hmm...and that does kinda sound like what they were doing. They seemed to make it quite clear that they didn't side with anybody at the start, though. Shooting down that Erusean was a pretty bold statement to make if you ask me. They were trying to tell both sides that they were their enemy."

"Yeah, but we don't know enough about them to know if that's true," Skald answered. He glanced at Naomi and then at Tailor before he added, "Unless someone might have hired them. Mercenaries aren't exactly uncommon in battles, even in this day and age. I heard The Demon Lord was hired in that war on the Anean continent a few years ago." He nodded to Naomi. "And your father is still technically a mercenary, is he not?"

"I think he retired a few years ago," Naomi replied, trying to recall any instances where he could very well have been off fighting in some insignificant battle. She shrugged, not able to think of any besides that time during the Continental War. She felt kind of stupid for not figuring any of this out sooner. It was right there in front of her the whole time. Dismissively, Naomi waved her hand at the question. "I wouldn't really know. It's not like my family kept me in the loop, after all."

"But wouldn't he be familiar with any other mercenary units that these guys could be from?" Lanza asked her.

"Even if he did keep up to date on this kind of stuff, I doubt that he'd be aware of who those bats were," Tabloid argued, having been looking at the TV and somehow dividing his attention between the news and their conversation. He looked back at them all. "Did no one pay attention to their voices? They're too young to have been around when Lieutenant Foulke was still working. Even with the interference from the radio I could tell that. You three remember, right? I wouldn't say that they're Trigger's age, but they aren't much older than us. Definitely in their twenties."

"So older than Trigger...I'd say thirty at the most, but even that seems like a bit much," Húxiān said. She looked at Bandog and then over at Fencer. "Think they're closer to our age?"

Fencer shrugged, staring at the label on his water bottle as he considered the possibility. At last he set the bottle down and shook his head with a sigh. "Not like it really matters. We just need to know that they're too young to have served in the Belkan War. If we were to stretch it a bit, then it's possible that they could have been flying any time between the Circum-Pacific War and now." Fencer was only voicing everyone else's inner doubts as he continued, looking around at all of them. "Even if we figured out their age and when they started flying, it doesn't help us any. We still don't know who they are, and we don't know where they came from. Regular forces tend to avoid mingling with ragtag units like mercenaries. You guys should know that as well as anyone. No one we know will have any idea of their identities. And if we had a lead, then where would we start looking? We're fighter pilots. It's not like we have the time or any real reason to go on a wild goose chase. It's not our job and we should leave it to the professionals."

"Oh c'mon, Fencer. Sounds to me like you're just scared of getting in trouble." Count was practically taunting him with the comment, and a look of irritation replaced Fencer's previously blank one. "We've played detective plenty of times, all because the people in charge were scared of a little risk. But wouldn't you rather take a risk and put a stop to a scheme that could affect everyone rather than sit back and do nothing and be the one responsible for someone getting away?"

"Look, O'Connor, not all of us lack common sense and are so careless with our position and reputation that we're willing to throw it away for no good reason," Fencer answered, fighting to keep his voice level. "It's two pilots. If you, Trigger, and Tabloid are all as great as everyone — including yourselves — claim you are, then why are you so worried? What can two, insignificant pilots possibly do to hurt you? Besides, you're not even the one they want, and I know for a fact that you still only care for yourself."

Count tensed at the comment, and he leaned forward as if he was about to push himself out of his seat and make a move for Fencer, but Naomi immediately reached for his arm to keep him in his seat. He gave her a frustrated look but finally relaxed and crossed his arm with an agitated sigh. Naomi let out a breath of relief, realizing not for the first time that the stress of recent operations was starting to get to everyone and that it was causing more than a little disagreement among their group. Tempers were clashing, and there was still some uncertainty around Naomi and the survivors of Spare Squadron. It got on her nerves too, but she did recognize that Fencer wasn't entirely wrong.

Reluctantly, she pointed this out to them. "Fencer has a point, though." It was mostly directed at Count, who was the most upset about it. She got some surprised looks from everyone, especially Fencer and Count. She guessed that they couldn't believe that she was agreeing with Fencer. Why wouldn't that surprise them? Naomi sighed, coming to an understanding in that moment. They'd all been too reckless in the past, and she led the way for it too. But now she was starting to not care. When no argument came, Naomi went on. "It's not the first time I've been singled out in a battle, and I'm sure it won't be the last. We should just pass on what we know and suspect to the right people and raise our concerns, then sit back and let the military handle it."

Tabloid gawked at this. "Are you serious? The military is useless. You leave this in the hands of the higher ups and they won't do a damn thing about it. Hell, they'd probably make it worse." He sounded as though he was in disbelief. "Besides, after what happened with McKinsey and now Clemens' suspicious behavior, I'm not sure there are many people in charge that we can trust. They may have apprehended some of them, but there are others that are better at hiding the fact that they've been bought out, simply because they're hellbent on keeping the power that comes with their position. You can't do that from a jail cell. But we know firsthand how easily someone with a high rank and a decent reputation can manipulate those around him."

"I hate to admit it, but the anarchist has a point," Bandog muttered, jerking a thumb towards Tabloid. He eyed Naomi curiously as he fought off a scowl, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as Count and Tabloid gave him a smug look. He straightened up, trying to ignore them. Naomi wouldn't lie, the awkward look on his face was kind of funny, but his uncomfortable explanation was even better. "Look, I don't like agreeing with you guys. You're all out of your minds if you ask me. But we can't just sit by and do nothing if there's a chance that the problem affects more than just us."

To everyone's surprise, it was Tailor that spoke up next, looking up from the book he'd been going over. "He's not really wrong. While I don't think you should get too involved, it wouldn't hurt to try and take things into your own hands. Even just a bit."

Naomi caught the look that Fencer, Húxiān, and Jaeger gave her. They were as conflicted as she was, but seemed to be trying to remind her of one thing. Looking down for a moment, she reminded herself of it. _The last time we took things into our own hands, someone died because of it_. Naomi didn't want to run the risk of losing someone else, not now that they finally had a new start. They'd been reckless before, and while she didn't want to stay out of it she also didn't want to risk everyone's career because of it. In the penal unit they had nothing to lose, but here things had to be done differently. Now she had the responsibilities that a squadron leader did, even if not as much as Wiseman. She sighed. "If some of you want to look into this on your own, then it isn't like I can stop you. But if you decide to do it then you should probably keep your heads down. Clemens knows that we're onto him. My father and Wiseman both noticed it, and so did I. When we brought up the bats, he looked panicked for a moment. He could have something to do with it."

"You're all going to get yourselves killed poking your nose where it doesn't belong." Fencer huffed, taking a swig from his water bottle. He did soften a bit, allowing his usual demeanor to come back as a playful smirk took the place of his frown. "Whatever you idiots do, just be careful."

"Like that word has ever been in our vocabulary," Húxiān replied with a laugh.

"Well, it's like Tabloid said earlier," Jaeger added with a chuckle as he stood up with a grunt. "We've got plenty of luck on our side. Just stick with Trigger." His smile faded as he checked his watch. "Huh. I didn't realize that much time had passed...well, I've got to head off. I promised Wiseman I'd give him an update on what you said. You may not have to get involved after all. Wiseman and Hawkins have been doing their own investigating and they have some connections that might offer some better results. Unless you find something out that you have to act on that second, I'd keep out of it for a bit."

With that, he was off. They all watched him leave before deciding that they had to get back to work themselves. After cleaning up their trays, they all set out, having changed the topic to something a bit more positive than what they'd been talking about over lunch. Count was walking a bit slower than the others and took up the back of their little group. Naomi eventually slowed her pace to walk beside him, easily picking up on the concern on his face. He still looked riled up from the brief argument with Fencer, and Naomi didn't want him to be upset for the rest of the day. His expression turned to one of curiosity and confusion as she ended up beside him, but he didn't say anything at first.

They continued walking before he finally said something, keeping his voice low so that the others wouldn't overhear him. "I don't like this, Trigger," he said to her. "If Clemens is involved with them and they're mercenaries, then that means that they're not going to be happy until you're dead. And they're going to kill the rest of us to ensure that. You heard that psycho's threats, didn't you?"

Naomi nodded. They said she'd get to watch her wingmen die. She looked down at her feet, then up at Count again, then ahead at the rest of their wingmates. Until he'd reminded her, she'd actually pushed the comment out of her mind. It seemed so insignificant at the time, them being so overwhelmed with everything else going on that they didn't really linger on it for that long. Now that she thought about it, the threat really got to her. Threatening her and having it out for her was one thing, but coming after her wingmen was another. After Chopinburg, she wanted to do everything she could to make sure that everyone made it back alive. Especially now that Wiseman was continuing to reinforce that.

She tried to show Count that she wasn't worried, but it looked like he could see right through it when she finally answered him. "It's like Fencer said. We take 'em out, no problem. It's two planes, right?"

"Maybe you're right. Maybe they aren't that skilled. I know you can take them, but..." Count trailed off, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Look, if we face them again then I don't want you to try your usual crazy stunts trying to take them out. At least, if you're going to take them on and fly like a maniac then at least let the rest of us back you up."

Naomi chuckled, actually surprised that he seemed so worried about it. So worried about her. "Aww, Count. Is that concern I hear?"

"Don't read too much into it, dumbass," Count said with a huff, straightening up slightly and crossing his arms. "How would it look if I let my squadron leader die? Maybe Wiseman's starting to rub off on me, or maybe I just don't want to hear his mouth if you get shot down." He tried to lighten the mood with a laugh of his own, but it was clear that the situation was bothering him. "You should just be careful. If Clemens did hire them to take you out, then that means that he wants you dead. There's no telling what he'll try...ugh. I was hoping we could escape all this stupid drama after McKinsey. It was supposed to be a new start, now look where we've ended up?"

"I doubt it's going to end here, Count. Erusea's getting desperate, and apparently people are starting to see us as a threat. Even within our own military," Naomi said, realizing that it was also entirely possible that Clemens wasn't doing this for Erusea. Osea might very well want her out of the way. Why, though, she couldn't imagine. She sighed. "But whatever happens, once it's all said and done then we'll be able to take a break. The hardest part is getting through it now, I guess. If something's up then we'll find out about it and put a stop to it, just like we did with McKinsey."

Count looked at her for a moment and Naomi met his gaze curiously. At last, he nodded and furrowed his brow, staring straight ahead. He looked as tired as Naomi felt, but he didn't look that way for much longer. In fact, he almost seemed determined. "You're awfully sure of that, Trigger. And it's not like you've really been wrong before." He rubbed the back of his neck as if he didn't like admitting it and it was embarrassing to say. "I hate to admit it, but that confidence has gotten us through a lot. Not so sure it's not gonna get you killed one day."

"Well, my luck hasn't run out just yet." She put on a playful smirk. Truth was, she wasn't as confident as everyone seemed to think. Maybe in the air, but on the ground it felt like everything was out of her control. There wasn't a chance in hell that she was going to let her wingmen see that, though. So for now she put on a brave face, if not for their sake then for her own. Naomi took a deep breath and looked away from Count, trying to feel as determined as she and everyone else sounded. "You know as well as I do that it's gonna take a lot more than some pompous jerk to take us out. If there really is an issue, it's not like it's anything that we can't handle."

"Sometimes your confidence is almost annoying," Count said with a chuckle.

"You're one to talk!" Naomi argued in mock offense.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Although he sounded like he was trying to be annoyed, the smile he had was still there and Naomi couldn't help but smile with him. "I don't know if I hope you're right about Clemens or wrong, but either way I want you to know that I've got your back."

Naomi was surprised by the comment, and took a moment to respond. She tried to keep the light, teasing tone when she finally did answer him. "Wow. I'm touched. Seems like Wiseman's really starting to rub off on you, huh?"

He shuddered. "Gah! Jeez, you didn't have to remind me!"

"Eh, I know you care." Naomi shrugged, actually relieved that the subject was starting to shift away from Clemens. She grinned and winked at him, which earned her an eye roll as she said, "No need to worry, Count. Your secret's safe with me."

After that, the mood improved significantly among their little group. Everyone tried to avoid talking about Clemens, but it was clear that everyone still had their own theories and opinions about him and they were probably still mulling it over silently, in their own heads. Naomi was happy for the break, but it still felt like their was a weight on her shoulders and the presence of Clemens around the base still acted as a dark cloud. Even if they ignored it, they couldn't get away from it, and sooner or later they'd have to confront it. Naomi just hoped this mess with the _Alicorn_ wouldn't drag out for too long and they'd be rid of Clemens before things escalated to the point that they did with McKinsey.

She couldn't help but wonder just how long they'd be haunted with what she could only describe as ghosts of their past. Even now after they'd been freed from the penal unit there was still a stigma around them. There was still mistrust and some obvious discrimination from Clemens. And Naomi felt like no matter what they did, no matter how hard they worked, or how closer to the end of the war they came, it would still find a way to come up at the end of the day. If her father still faced backlash for his actions a little over twenty years before, then it wasn't unreasonable to think that they'd still face difficulties because of their past. But what if that was affecting things now?

Naomi wondered for a moment if maybe Clemens wasn't a threat. Maybe his behavior reminded them of McKinsey too much and they were jumping to conclusions. She tried not to think about it, and remembered what Count had said. '_I don't know if I hope you're right about Clemens or wrong..._' Naomi tried to push the thought away. _As much as I hate to say it, I hope I'm right. Otherwise we're going to end up in worse trouble than we'd be in if I were right,_ she thought. It may have been an awful thing to think, and she didn't want there to be traitors and mistrust among their military, but she also didn't want everyone to think that she and the rest of her squadron were unfit to serve because of a simple, understandable mistake.

She looked up to the sky, her thoughts almost sounding like a prayer. In fact, that wasn't such a bad idea. She closed her eyes as a cold breeze hit her face and she let out a breath. _Please, just let this go smoothly_.

* * *

**Fort Grays Island, East of Usea.**  
**2039hrs.**

The last few weeks had been nothing short of miserable. With the rise of the Long Range Strategic Strike Group and their attacks having cut a path that would ultimately lead to an assault on Farbanti, the IUN was seemingly left with less tasks to do. That had not actually been the case, and Golem and Mage Squadron were sent out frequently for what were supposed to be small scale operations. They'd been making attempts to slip in undetected and attack the Erusean forces at the space elevator as much as they could. But since the destruction of the Arsenal Bird Liberty at Stonehenge, the Erusean intercepters had been made to respond faster and more efficiently and the IUN hadn't been able to come anywhere near Selatapura.

With this in mind, their new base commander that had replaced Colonel Matthews (who was now back in Oured, locked up in a cell after being tried and convicted in North Point) had been looking for anything they could do to make themselves useful. With Osea and Erusea constantly fighting over Tyler Island, in spite of the presence of an Osean base, Golem and Mage had been sent out every once in a while to provide some quick air strikes before retreating back to their little island. It was a long way to fly, which is why they'd now been spending their time helping forces further inland that were closer to them so they could avoid refueling so often. Overall, they'd been going up almost every day since then.

They arrived early that night, the sun having already set. They'd been in a short battle to help some Osean ground forces maintain the base that was on the edge of Osean occupied territory. Following that, they ended up in a surprise dogfight near Roca Roja when yet another attack was launched on their ground troops. They were lucky that they hadn't taken any casualties, but the fight hadn't gone without any damage. With the additions of the two Razgriz pilots, it was no wonder that things had been in their favor. The two may have been a little rusty but they were as skilled as the stories said and surprisingly good at following the orders given by Knocker and Clown.

The two squadrons' rosters were frequently rearranged to accommodate the two newcomers and no one complained when they had to sit out a battle. If anything, they welcomed the change. Today, though, they'd sent everyone out. Golem Squadron was with its regular lineup and Mage Squadron flew with three aircraft instead of the usual two. The Razgriz pilots flew alongside their old companion once again, and the banter that followed had been one of the only uplifting things about the entire day. But now that everyone had landed and was back at base, the mood had turned fairly sour. Everyone was tired and irritated after a long day, and it didn't help that they were informed to immediately report to HQ.

The Razgriz and Clown's journalist friend, Genette, had been stuck at the base all day with no news. He'd been the one to deliver the message to them, and it wasn't well received. Several groans sounded from all of the pilots as they chucked some of their flight gear to the ground in frustration. Knocker noticed Blaze and Grimm (the names they'd introduced themselves to him as) exchanged a tired, almost worried look between the two of them before reaching for each others hands as a quiet show of reassurance. The frowns they wore changed to soft smiles, but their eyes still gave away how weary they were. Knocker could understand that. Everyone was exhausted.

Conversation started, the pilots' voices echoing throughout the hangar as they spoke, raising their voices in irritation. To almost no one's surprise, it was Boggard that was the first to express how upset he was. "We just can't catch a break around here, huh?" he asked, although he could quite clearly guess what the answer was going to be. "Damned LRSSG. We're always having to pick up after them, and do we get any thanks for it? Nope. Get no respect for it either, all because every bit of respect from the higher ups goes straight to those Osean bigshots that they've got working for them. I wish Trigger had never had to leave. Then we'd be getting all the glory."

"I was wondering if you remembered that." Footpad seemed amused when he spoke, holding his helmet up as if to inspect it for any damage he might have to fix. "You remember the briefing we got when that new commander came in."

"Who could forget?" Faun asked, his eyes lighting up. "It's like the guy rehearsed the whole thing."

Boggard cleared his throat and started his best impression of their new commander, sounding very gruff and old all of a sudden. His expression changed to an exaggerated look of disapproval, which looked almost as stupid as his voice sounded. "Ahem — 'You'll be happy to know that your old buddy has been pardoned and promoted. _Captain_ Foulke now serves the Long Range Strategic Strike group as leader of their Strider Squadron. She's apparently that 'Three Strikes' you've been hearing so much about! The one with half a red wing!'" The actual paraphrasing ended there as Boggard threw his own twist in, his tone becoming more whiny as if he was trying to mock a pouting child. "'Now would somebody _please_ start kissing my ass, because I'm an important guy!'"

Even if the comment wasn't that funny, for the first time in several weeks the three of them all laughed like they used to. Actual, genuine laughter. Being in charge, though, Knocker still had to call them out on the disrespect. "Oh, c'mon you guys. Knock it off. The guy's still your commander and you should show a little more respect to him."

Clown, Blaze, and Grimm gave fond smiles, even joining in on the laughing. It was Clown that spoke up, clapping Knocker on the back and nearly knocking the breath out of him. "Aw, let 'em have their fun, Knocker. It isn't like they're doin' any harm," he said, chuckling as he watched the three begin a game of catch with their gloves. "The only thing that'll get hurt is the colonel's ego. Not that it couldn't use a blow or two. That bein' said, they deserve a chance to let loose a bit."

"Yeah, they've been working hard all week," Blaze said, grinning in spite of her own exhaustion. "They've earned a break and a chance to mess around." She seemed to be holding back laughter as she spoke, looking over at Grimm and then to Clown, then over her shoulder at where Genette was standing behind them before she looked back to the rambunctious trio. She kept the grin on her face. "Besides, it isn't like we've never done the same at one point or another. Remember Perrault?"

Grimm chuckled, not entirely sharing in the enthusiasm of his wife but still amused nonetheless. "Damn, that guy was so easy to make fun of..."

"Oh, tell me about it," Clown said, laughing. Knocker raised an eyebrow, wondering if they were talking about the same Perrault that worked in Oured. As if guessing that was what was going through his head, Clown explained. "Orson Perrault. Guy got a promotion after the Circum-Pacific War for 'outing the Wardog traitors' all while _we_ went into hiding. Now he sits all comfy in the capital with an ever appropriate desk job. He lost a bit of weight, but damn if he isn't fat...didn't Chopper once ask just how big Perrault's chin was? Something about where it ended and if his neck even still existed...that feels like so long ago."

Knocker sighed, not wanting to get into a lengthy story while they still had somewhere to be. "Well, you can reminisce some more later." He crossed his arms and frowned. "Right now we've got somewhere to be...hey! Wrap it up, you three! I don't want the colonel on my ass again!"

At the sound of Knocker shouting to them, the three stopped their play-fighting and looked over at him, adopting rigid postures as they tried to stop their laughing. "Yes sir!" they all called out at once, Boggard chucking a water bottle at Footpad for the latter to catch. It caused Footpad to cut his words short as he focused on catching the item. He glared at Boggard, who just gave a cheeky grin in reply. Knocker smiled and rolled his eyes at them, shaking his head. _What am I going to do with these idiots?_

The walk from the hangars to HQ wasn't without any conversation, and Faun, Footpad, and Boggard resumed their bantering while the rest just listened. Blaze and Grimm happily filled Genette in on the events of the operation and he wrote down all of the important events. Likely for the story he was working on. Apparently GAZE had given him a chance to cover the Lighthouse War and he'd been interviewing everyone he could. To Knocker, though, it seemed like he was starting to get restless with the IUN. Like he wasn't getting all of the juicy details and events that he could be getting if he were with the LRSSG instead. It was clear that he wished he was with Trigger instead.

_Heh. Trigger..that crazy kid..._.Knocker couldn't help but feel proud of her, even if he hadn't seen or heard about her in a while. He felt almost cheated, though. He was upset that they didn't tell them about her status sooner, and that they were left wondering what had happened for so long. He later learned that Trigger's father had been in contact with Blaze, but had only said that she had been pardoned. For some reason, it slipped her mind to tell them this. Knocker wasn't angry that she hadn't told them, but he would have liked some reassurance. They'd heard about Spare Squadron in passing as Osea's penal units began to gain a bit of a reputation. Apparently it was thanks to Trigger that Spare was seen as useful.

Had Knocker and Clown had more time, it would have been nice to give her a phone call just to check in. Boggard and Footpad had mentioned trying to call New Arrows before, and Faun agreed with them. They just wanted to check in on their friend. Losing Brownie had brought everyone closer together, and just how much they all acted like siblings was startling at some times. They were all determined not to lose any more of their wingmen, and Knocker had to admire that. In fact, he was determined not to lose any more men if he could prevent it. Their confidence and trust was probably the only thing keeping all of them from losing it. Recalling Brownie's death in any clashes with the drones wasn't hard to do, and everyone went after them with a vengeance. Knocker only wished they could face the coward that killed her in the first place.

When they finally reached HQ, they stepped inside the briefing room and were greeted by their new commander. He was a no nonsense kind of commander, and he did think himself a bit too important on several occasions, hence Boggard's poor impersonation of him. In spite of this, Knocker thought that he was pretty friendly for a commander. He was surprisingly young for a colonel, but not so young that it would seem impossible. He was probably coming close to his forties at this point, and had a few gray hairs mixed into his black hair. He walked with a bit of a limp and it seemed as though he and the Razgriz were familiar with one another, but they never outright stated it and had very brief, professional interactions.

The colonel looked up at them when they entered the room, looking relieved that they were finally there. He even gave them a rare smile as he greeted them, shoving away the paperwork that he'd been going over. "Ah, there you are. I have some things I need to tell you all," he said. To Knocker's surprise, he seemed as tired as everyone else. Once they'd all taken their seats, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed, looking down at the papers before he looked up to address them. "Both of the operations were a success. You managed to defend our ground forces and they managed to keep the base they took in Roca Roja. All in all it was a success, but there's something else I need to inform you about."

"And what's that?" Clown asked, probably wanting to go and get something to eat instead of listen to their base commander giving a debriefing.

The colonel frowned, but he didn't look angry. He shrugged and explained the situation to them. "An Erusean submarine is on the loose. Our goal was to capture it, but it destroyed our fleet and managed to escape. The LRSSG had been the ones heading the operation, but I received a few phone calls today and they want the IUN placed on standby until this is sorted out." He reached for a few papers that he'd stapled together and walked over to where Knocker was sitting up front. "That's a much more detailed explanation that I received in an email from Colonel Hawkins at New Arrows and then another from Lieutenant General Shepherd in Oured. If needed, they want us to join up with their squadrons and work together to take down the sub. So from here on out, you're all going to be on the ground unless absolutely necessary. I've spoken with Gargoyle and Skeleton's commanders and they'd be willing to send out their men if something comes up."

"Seriously?" Faun let out an annoyed huff. Usually the even tempered and logical one, Knocker expected him of all people to keep his cool. The stress must have really been getting to him. "Gah! I'm so sick of this bullshit. We should be out there fighting with them."

"You will before long." Their base commander waved a hand dismissively and started to return to his desk. "If they don't need our help for _this_, the IUN is still going to be working with the LRSSG to take Farbanti when the time comes. You'll get to see Captain Foulke sooner or later, don't worry...at least, you will provided nobody screws anything up and goes down. Last thing we need is a POW rescue operation. I think I can speak for some of you when it comes to experience with that. Some of you know just how stressful those kinds of operations can be." He narrowed his eyes on Blaze, Grimm, and Clown, and they all nodded to confirm that they did indeed know what it was like. His eyes flicked to Genette. "As for you, Genette, I received a reply in regards to your request. You'll be allowed to join one of our ground units to cover more of the war. A transport will pick you up in a few days when they bring some supplies in. You might want to start packing."

Genette perked up at this, straightening his posture in his seat. "Yes, sir," he said with a nod and a grateful smile. "Thank you, Colonel Beckett."

Colonel Beckett returned the nod. "Of course. Don't mention it." He took a seat, looking over the rest of the paperwork he had to go over with a sigh. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have a bunch of paperwork that I need to catch up on. You're dismissed. I'll let you know if we need you for something, but for the time being, you should take it easy. Play some card games, call up your families, raid the mess hall. Whatever you'd like. Within reason of course." He gave a surprisingly mischievous smile and chuckled as he said this. "Now go on. You guys deserve a break after today."

Everyone saluted and bid the colonel farewell before they all filed outside into the hallways and started to head towards the mess hall, with Boggard leading the way and declaring that he could eat a whole horse. Faun and Footpad followed him closely, but Knocker and Clown hung back with the Razgriz and Genette. They all wore somewhat concerned expressions. In the short time that they'd all been around one another, Knocker had to admit that he was rather fond of Genette. The guy was a great conversationalist, he'd helped them out with their spy situation, and he'd even played a role in clearing Trigger's name. Also, he had firsthand experience with the Razgriz and would tell the stories that they seemed reluctant to. He'd tell them with the pride you'd expect them to have, too. Knocker would be sad to see him go.

It was clear from the look on Blaze's face that she felt the same. Grimm and Clown were also upset, but Blaze was the only one to give it away. She glanced at Genette a few times as if trying to find the right words before she finally spoke up. "You're leaving?"

Genette nodded, almost looking nervous as he replied. "Yeah...that reminds me...I need to talk to you about that."

Blaze stared at him for a moment, then blinked and shortly said that they could talk over dinner. Clown and Grimm looked at Genette in an almost apologetic way as they continued walking. Knocker wasn't too upset about Genette leaving, but he'd miss his company. _Great..._ he thought to himself as he realized just how dull their free time was about to become. _Just what we need. More pointless change_.

* * *

**2100hrs.**

Kathryn sat at the table beside Grimm, a tray of food in front of her. Genette and Clown sat across from them, and Golem Squadron was seated on the table beside theirs. The only other people in the mess hall besides them were a few of the unlucky soldiers that had to work the night shift and were grabbing some coffee before heading out to begin their work. As she watched everyone leave, she tried to stall her conversation with Genette as much as possible. Needless to say, the former leader of the infamous Razgriz Squadron was less than happy. About the only good thing that happened recently had been her and Grimm getting to fly again, but it was obvious how much those around her disliked the decision. And if Genette wasn't happy with her decision, then she was allowed to be unhappy with his decision. At least, that's what the childish side of her said.

After taking a quick sip of water, she set her glass down and finally looked at those sitting around her. If anything, she was angry. Clown and Grimm knew this, and so did Genette. She liked to think that she hid it well, but those closest to her could always figure it out. Maybe she wasn't as good as she thought, or maybe there was something that tipped her off. That being said, she was a lot better at reigning in her temper now that she was older than she had been during the last war. She took a deep breath before she finally looked at Genette. "So, now that Colonel Beckett has so kindly sprung this new information on us," she said. "Perhaps you'd care to explain why you didn't bring this up sooner?"

Genette shrugged as he began to pick at his dinner with his fork. "I figured you'd be upset with it, that's all. I mean, we did all agree that if we were going to do this then we'd all be sticking together, right?" She gave a reluctant nod in agreement. They had said that. Or something close to it. What started out as a simple favor for an old friend evolved into something much different and it seemed as though everyone had been caught up in the excitement. Genette went on, confirming this. "Besides, everyone else has had their fun. Now that Matthews is gone and the military has all the information they need on the alleged spies, that leaves me as nothing more than dead weight. GAZE gave me a decent offer and I asked Colonel Beckett to contact Grimm's brother to see if they'd mind me tagging along on their operations."

She almost forgot that her brother-in-law was still serving the Osean Army, but it had been a while since they'd been in touch with him. Last she heard, he was in charge of a couple of ground operations and had apparently been a part of the ground units that helped defend Stonehenge. He was pretty lenient, but she never would have guessed that he'd be alright with a civilian, journalist or not, tagging along with them. Genette had some experience and was good at keeping his head down when he was told, but something could always go wrong. Things were different on the ground than they were in the air and there wasn't any way of predicting how someone who'd had limited experience with one of them would react when thrown into the situation.

"I can understand why you're doing it, and I'm not going to try and argue with you." Kathryn said, realizing that she could find a million arguments against it and it still wouldn't make a difference. They all had a personal stake in this war, whether they wanted it or not. She took another deep breath to make sure that she didn't blurt something out and get into an argument. She wasn't his mother, after all. Kathryn shook her head, letting out a scoff. "It's kind of funny. Here I was hoping that we could all be in this together like we were in the last war. It sounds so childish now that I think about it, but you can't really blame me. I guess as much as I missed flying, you probably missed being in the action and recording this stuff just as much."

Clown sighed and gave Genette a firm pat on his shoulder. "Well, it was nice having you around. I know everyone's gonna miss you, but so long as you stay safe and give us a call when you can, then I don't think anyone has any complaints."

"You won't hear any from me, at least," Grimm said, giving Kathryn a pointed look. She scowled, but nodded in agreement without pushing the topic any longer.

The rest of their meal was spent reminiscing and listening to Genette get excited about officially getting back into his work. Kathryn didn't protest any more, understanding that he had more reasons than just 'work' to want to continue his reporting elsewhere. If he was lucky enough then he might even get to talk with Pixy's daughter. What were they calling her now? Three Strikes? Or even some of them had found a way to mix up her and her father's titles. Solo Wing Strikes had been coined by Boggard as a joke but it actually didn't sound all that bad. If Genette did manage to interview her, it would be yet another ace's story that got told. So why was Kathryn still so upset about it?

Once they'd all finished eating and said goodnight to everyone, Kathryn walked beside Grimm as they headed back to the quarters that they shared. It had been a pain convincing the higher ups to let them share quarters. Kathryn was almost glad that they weren't officially military, otherwise they'd have tons of paperwork to go through. Hell, they'd have had tons of paperwork to go through just to get married in the first place. The last nine years hadn't been a picnic by any means, but they'd made do with what they had. Kathryn was looking forward to the release of the documents next year so that she could possibly get back to her career. What Grimm was going to do, she had no idea.

Truth be told, they hadn't talked about this kind of stuff as much as she'd have expected. In fact, just about anything relating to the Razgriz they only brought up when necessary. Their friends and former allies were the exception, but they obviously never pressured one another into telling old war stories. Even so they only told the good parts, if you could even call it that. But Kathryn figured that, with the new year drawing closer every day, she and Grimm had to sit down and talk about what they'd do sooner or later. He'd always been so quiet and accepting when it came to her and her decisions, even when they were kids. If she chose to do something, he'd support her and go along with it as best as he could. He joined the air force and she followed him like an idiot, but once he realized that she was doing it whether he wanted her to or not then he stopped trying to talk her out of it.

And now that they were flying again, when he heard that she wanted to get back in the action then he just went along with it. But it was time that they talked about it. Kathryn looked around, making sure that there wasn't anyone to get upset at them for breaking any rules with conversation, she finally spoke up. "Grimm...er, Hans..." she said, clearing her throat. He looked at her curiously, somewhat surprised to hear his first name. It had been a while since they'd been able to call one another by their first names. Technically, they could do it whenever they wanted since they weren't officially military, but they both agreed to maintain appearances both on the ground and in the air. "I want to talk to you about something."

Grimm's curiosity was quick to change to concern, maybe even dread. "What is it?"

"Well, it's two things, actually." Kathryn wasn't usually this nervous. But it was just them in the hallway and she figured it was alright to drop the calm act around her own husband. Not that he couldn't see right through it to begin with. "I want to know how you feel about us flying with Clown again after staying out of wars and everything for so long. Second, after all of this is over, once the documents on us are released to the public and the truth about the war and our squadron is revealed...what will you do? And, I guess, what do you want to do?"

Grimm looked relieved, as though he was expecting something bad, and he resumed his usual, laid back and calm demeanor. For a moment anyways. The more that he thought about her question, the more his attitude shifted. Now he just looked sad. Almost longing in a way. "I can't lie to you and say that I'm happy that we're getting back in the action. I missed flying, but we were just fine without it. Now there's a war that we have no business being in and we're fighting it. Face it, Kathryn, we can't fly like we used to. We aren't any demons or powerful fighting force anymore. Just look at us...we're thirty and basically retired. Things were fine back in Osea. I wouldn't mind going back to that."

"So, once we have the opportunity to officially rejoin the military, you're not going to take it?" Kathryn asked him, more than a little disappointed by his answer. "After everything we worked for back then? We came all this way to just sit back and do nothing?"

"After the war, I just wanted a break. I don't want to fly again," Grimm said. He let out a nervous laugh all of a sudden and seemed embarrassed by what he was about to say, but he went on anyways. "You said you were fine not being in the air force anymore. And after nine years, well, I figured that by now we'd have been able to settle down and start a family. Now I'm running the risk of losing you in a dogfight in another pointless war all because you don't know how to take it easy."

Kathryn looked at him, surprised. They'd never really discussed starting a family, at least not at any real length. Sure, she wanted kids eventually, but she still wanted to fly too. She had a reason for wanting to fight in this particular war, though. "I promise that after this war, I won't fight again if I don't have to. But after hearing Erusea's princess giving that speech about the space elevator, there are mixed feelings about it in our own government. Some are saying that we should fight to take it back, and others are siding with Erusea and want it destroyed. What happens if Osea decides to give in to Erusea? What if we lose? The Space Elevator is going to be destroyed, and then we're going to lose another one of our friends."

"Not necessarily," Grimm replied. "Captain Nagase could still make it back. She's resourceful enough that she could make it back without the elevator."

"But I don't want her to have to. Besides, there's no telling if she'd be able to survive it," Kathryn argued. She stopped walking and Grimm followed suit, turning around to look at her. She sighed and grabbed his hands in hers, keeping him from moving away from her. "Look, I can't abandon them now. Not when we're this far into it already."

Grimm sighed, looking down at her. "I get that. I've come this far with you, and I'm not going to just give up on it. I'm not asking you to do that. What I _am_ asking is for you to accept that it's time to move on. Osea doesn't need us anymore. They've moved on and it's time that we did the same. Let other pilots have a chance to shine and take a break long enough to focus on something besides your career." He kissed the top of her head before pulling away from her. "Now come on and let's get some rest. I'm exhausted..."

Kathryn knew that he was right, and once the war was over then she'd be more than happy to focus on other things in her life. But the air force had been a big part of her life for so long that she didn't know exactly what to do with her life beyond that. She followed him with a defeated sigh, knowing he was right. She never realized that he could be so stubborn with his opinions. He'd never tried to argue with her, but if he had a good point then he wouldn't hesitate to share it with her. As they walked, she moved closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder, grabbing his hand with hers. "You're right, Grimm, and after this is over then I promise you and I can take some time to try and live a normal life, alright?" she said, hoping he'd agree. He shook his head and smiled, so she took that as an 'okay'. "Love you."

"Love you, too," he replied.

"I have one more question, though," Kathryn said to him, lifting her head off of his shoulder so she could see his expression and reaction clearly.

"And what's that?"

"What's it like having your uncle for a base commander?" She grinned, finally taking a chance to poke a bit of fun at the fact that Colonel Beckett — known to them as PJ in a non-professional environment — had stepped in to take charge of Fort Grays and no one knew that he was actually Grimm's uncle on his mother's side. He'd also, incidentally, been a close friend and wingman of Kathryn's father during the Belkan War. Their friendship was what caused Kathryn to meet the Beckett and Grimm family when she was much younger.

It was rare to earn such a reaction from Grimm, but he rolled his eyes at the question and pretended to be upset about it. "Not all that fun. I help save the world and _he_ gets a promotion? I swear the only way he managed that was by dropping Cipher's name." He was joking, of course, but it was still kind of funny to see his reaction. The couple laughed together at this, and at least for a moment things felt as close to normal as the two of them could manage. They'd get their normal life eventually. Kathryn was determined to give him that much. All they had to do was wait for a bit longer until they could help bring the war to an end.


	30. Coming Storm

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Coming Storm

|...|...|...|

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
_**September 8th, 2019.**_  
**0933hrs.**

|...|...|...|

It was early in the morning and Wiseman had asked everyone to come to HQ. At least, everyone except for Clemens, that is. They'd somehow managed to avoid getting found out and Wiseman and Hawkins had organized a bit of a briefing. They'd even managed to get their analyst, David North, to agree to a video call just for this. No one was sure what the meeting was for, just that it was obviously important for everyone that would be flying. Looking around the room, Pixy could see that everyone, Tailor and Fencer included, were seated in the room. He stood at the front, beside Wiseman and Long Caster. The base commander hadn't joined them yet, and everyone had realized that Clemens had been keeping him out of the picture as much as possible.

He glanced towards the door as they waited for their call to Oured to connect, then over at Wiseman with a curious expression. "Colonel Hawkins isn't joining us?" Pixy asked him. Wiseman looked up and seemed to hesitate for a moment, and Pixy could already guess the answer. He frowned, feeling as though something wasn't right without the base commander himself being there. "So, he won't be joining us, then? Is there any reason why he's been hiding off in his office, or is he just trying to keep a low profile?"

"We figured that bringing everyone here without getting Clemens' attention was tricky enough as it was and bringing the base commander would only raise more suspicion than we'd already be facing," Wiseman replied, offering a reassuring smile. "I spoke with the commander, and he said that he's alright with sitting back and focusing on a bit of paperwork. He's considered getting in touch with someone to try and warn them about Clemens, but so far he's just been looking into active mercenary units to track down those bats that engaged Trigger. It's not like he's completely out of the picture, just working behind the scenes so we can keep the brigadier general off our backs for a bit."

Pixy nodded slowly. "Right...if you say so. I just hope that we're not going to have more trouble with base commanders." He looked over at where his daughter was sitting, talking with her wingmen. Count, as usual, was sitting right beside her. Pixy was keeping an eye on him. Naomi seemed to trust him and his loyalty was surprisingly admirable. He was always right by her side. Then again, so was Tabloid. In fact, on Naomi's other side, he sat with his usual grin on his face. At least they were all happy for now. No telling how bad things could get, though. Pixy sighed, crossing his arms. "Everyone who used to be from Spare is probably tired of dealing with leaders who would sooner sell them out then risk anything to save them."

Long Caster spoke up next. "There's no need to worry about that, sir," he said, also looking towards where the pilots were sitting. "Commander Hawkins has always been on our side. He's as loyal to Osea as it comes. He'd never endanger his men. Same goes for Wiseman."

"I don't doubt Wiseman. Your judgement hasn't been wrong yet, though, so I suppose I'm being a little unfair on Hawkins," Pixy said. He wasn't a bad guy, by any means, and he'd seen service for some time now. This wasn't his first war, and it likely wasn't his first time in charge either. Pixy only worried that he might lack the stomach for a war on this scale, where loyalties were being questioned left and right within their own command structure. He might very well be wrong, but only time would be able to tell that. "Just worried about a repeat McKinsey, that's all."

"The only person that we should worry about that with would probably be Clemens," Wiseman answered, focusing more on the computer screen than he was on the conversation. With one last click, he finally stood back and looked to the larger screen on the wall. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Now, that should do it. David said he'd be ready around this time. The call's going through, so provided everything connects like it's supposed to then we shouldn't run into any issues." He turned slightly to get a clear view of the others and raised his voice a bit to be heard over their own conversation. "Hey! Quiet down! This is important, so I want you all to pay attention."

The conversation among the younger pilots and Jaeger all died down, although Count rolled his eyes at the order. He didn't try and argue, though, and everyone's attention turned to the screen as David answered their call. The face of the young analyst showed up on their screen, appearing a bit pixelated at first before the feed cleared up and everyone was able to see him clearly. "_Ah, I see everyone's here. That's perfect!_" he said, in a surprisingly chipper tone for how early it was in Oured. "_I wanted to speak with you all without the brigadier general present. Something about him has me worried that he might be involved with Erusea somehow. Until I get some more digging done, I can't say anything for certain, but I do want to talk with you about a few other things._"

"Really?" Naomi asked, raising an eyebrow. She had a playful smirk, and it was no wonder considering the somewhat joking question she had for David. "Are we going to have another chance on your quiz show or is this strictly business?"

David smiled at this, sheepishly answering her. "_Well, that all depends, really. We'll see how the conversation goes._" He looked away from them and typed something into his own computer before turning back to them. "_I've sent over some data I've put together, along with a recording of a transmission some of our allies received while the _Alicorn_ was making her escape. We believe that the captain of the _Alicorn_, Matias Torres, might have intended for Strider Squadron to hear this, but they didn't pick it up. However, your AWACS picked it up instead. I spent the last few days trying to clean up as much of the radio interference as I could, so it's a lot easier to hear him._"

Pixy watched as Long Caster took over the keyboard, clicking a few times before an ID photo of Torres appeared on the screen. The name of the sound file was just under that. With another click, Long Caster played the audio and everyone listened carefully to the recording. The voice of Torres filled the silence in the room, albeit sounding a bit more odd and muffled than it normally would. "This boat has the means to end this hideous war in a definitive and elegant manner. The world shall be horrified by the number of lives that we will take...only then will they let go of their weapons. Weapons that would have taken the lives of ten million!"

Everyone looked a bit startled and thoughtful as the speech came to an end, and it took a couple of moments before anyone finally spoke up. "Sounds a bit weird to me. Erusea's made some pretty ballsy moves lately, but that's taking it to a different level. What are they planning, anyways?" Tabloid asked, looking at the screen with his brow furrowed. The gears were obviously turning in his head as he tried to work out some theories and answer his own question, but he wasn't fast enough. If he was, then he kept it to himself as everyone else began to ask their own questions.

"Has the Erusean military made a statement about all of this?" Naomi asked them. Everyone looked as if they were trying to make sense of the speech. It was straightforward, but also confusing at the same time. Naomi glanced at Pixy and he had a feeling that she recognized a radical ideology a mile away and expected him to know something about Torres' motivations. But he didn't. She went on, looking away from him after a few seconds. "I know that their princess has been giving a lot of pro-war speeches to get their troops riled up, but I haven't heard anything about that lately. If they had something this big planned, surely they'd want to make a big deal about it...right?"

It was Tailor that answered the question. "Actually, Princess Cossette has been pulled from all of her scheduled public appearances. There's been some doubt within their own military and the Princess expressed this during one of her speeches, apparently having some doubts herself. After that, her father and one of their military leaders went public to say that she was remaining out of politics for a while after disrespecting the King and his wishes or something like that," he explained, and everyone looked amazed by the information. Tailor's face suddenly turned a shade of pink out of embarrassment and he slouched in his seat as he nervously explained, "My mother's half Erusean and she's been keeping up with the D'Elise family's politics since their abrupt rise to power. I follow Erusean news whenever I can out of habit and I've been listening to the Princess' speeches since the start of the war is all. You have to admit, she's fairly charismatic and at one point believed what she was saying...b-but it's possible that her father and the government have been using her as a pawn and just a pretty face to win people over."

"The government always uses people as a pawn, whether they're in politics or not," Tabloid grumbled.

Count spoke up next, perking up in his seat as he got an idea. "Hey, maybe lover boy has a point there."

At the use of the nickname, Tailor scoffed and glared at Count, looking even more embarrassed than he did before and seeming to puff himself up defensively. "Lover boy? That's ridiculous! You've gotta be delusional or something to think that..."

"Yeah, well, you can defend your pride later, kid." Count smirked at him and Naomi smacked him on the arm as a silent warning to get back on track. He rolled his eyes at her and Pixy couldn't help but chuckle a little at the exchange. Count's expression and tone went serious again as he started to explain his theory. "Well, if there are doubts within the Erusean ranks about the war, then that means that there has to be a heavily pro-war side that still remains. If they're so worried about keeping up appearances that they bar their own princess from speaking out of fear that she'll influence them in the opposite direction, then that means somebody has to be pulling strings behind the scenes to keep the war going. That being said, there may be some pro-war Eruseans that want the war to end in an Erusean victory regardless of the lengths that they take to achieve that, right?"

"It's possible, sure," Skald said, his fingers pressed against his chin as he thought. He actually almost looked bored. "But is it likely?"

"Yeah, it is, actually," Jaeger replied, giving Count a small smile. He almost looked impressed by the statement. He looked over at Skald. "People will go to crazy lengths to stop a war. Some people may consider it a fair exchange and a small price to pay. You take a handful of lives to save an entire nation, while simultaneously managing to cripple your enemy from fighting back for a while. They'll be too busy trying to handle the devastation in the aftermath. The war will end, or at the very least come to a cease fire."

Pixy felt guilt begin to way down on him and he tried to push away the memory of the lengths he'd almost gone through to stop a war. He'd been trying to erase borders completely, though, not bring a victory to one country. That's why he defected. But did Torres defect or was this all part of Erusea's plan? He noticed everyone had looked over to him after hearing what Jaeger had to say, and he swallowed nervously, glancing uncomfortably over at Wiseman. Even David seemed to be watching him. Pixy took a steady breath and finally spoke up. "It's possible that that's what his plan is. It sounds that way to me, at least. He'll probably try and attack somewhere in Osea, or likely try and hit our own bases, right? Hell, if I were him then I'd go for the very thing that started this war in the first place. The Lighthouse."

"Yeah..." Fencer said, glancing at the Usean map displayed on the screen. He looked like he focused on where the space elevator was highlighted. "Erusea _has_ been bitching about that stupid thing long before the war started. You know, in spite of the fact that it isn't on _their_ land. They might try and destroy it, and any forces that get in their way along with it. Now that Harling's out of their way, the last place they can lay the blame is on the Lighthouse."

David nodded with a pleased look on his face. It was like he knew something that they didn't. "_Not bad, Lieutenant Winters! That's a pretty good guess, but the threat on a million lives doesn't add up if you're considering the space elevator as his target. The death toll would be in the thousands but only provided he chose to destroy all of Selatapura along with it._" He paused and looked down at some notes he had placed in front of him. "_But...yeah, it's just as I thought. It wouldn't fit into his plan. But, if Lieutenant O'Connor is onto something — and I think that he might be — then it's safe to assume that the Alicorn could be operating separately from Erusea's main military. It either defected or someone within their government is using it as a pawn_."

"Is there any way that it could be both?" Naomi asked him.

He paused, blinking in surprise at her question. "_Hmmm...why didn't I think of that?_" he muttered under his breath. Adjusting the pair of glasses that he wore, he spun his swivel chair slightly and disappeared from their view for a minute before returning a few seconds later with a bunch of files in his hands. David opened them up and flicked through some of the papers, whispering to himself as he did. At last he tossed them aside and turned his attention back to them. "_I'll look into it a bit more and try running some simulations. If anything comes up, I'll try and contact you as soon as I can. In the meantime, be careful and keep an eye on Clemens. If he is a traitor, there's no telling what he'll try. For now, I'm gonna say good luck to you all._"

"Roger that, David. We'll do our best," Wiseman answered. "Good luck to you as well."

With a 'goodbye' from everyone else, David disconnected the call and the window that displayed the feed collapsed from the screen, showing only the Usean continent and the LRSSG's emblem on the screen now. Everyone went quiet for a moment before Wiseman spoke up again. "Well, I can't think of anything else to go over right now. Jaeger's already filled us in on everything to do with Clemens and those newcomers from the other day and David's working hard back in Oured. I suppose that you're all free to go if no one else has anything to say." Wiseman waited for anyone to speak up, looking around expectantly, but no other comment came. He nodded. "Right. Well, you're dismissed, then. Let me know if anything suspicious happens around base."

"Righto," came the answer from Count as everyone stood up, the silence filled with shuffling sounds as a result. Count stretched out his arms with a groan as he stood up, letting his arms fall to his side once he was finished. He looked at Naomi, glancing behind her briefly at Tailor, wearing a smirk like usual. "What say we all head to the hangars to bother the Scrap Queen, huh? Maybe aggravate Bandog a little bit too. And on the way there we can talk about Tailor's little crush."

They all laughed at the much younger pilot's expense, Tailor now looking like he was about ready to explode. Considering the height difference between him and Count, it was actually kind of funny to witness. "It's not a crush! Is that _all_ you think about!?"

Pixy stifled a laugh as everyone headed out, all of them teasing Tailor as they left. Naomi caught Pixy's eye as they left, her smile remaining but something in her eyes telling him that she was trying to figure out if the situation bothered him or brought up any bad memories. He had to admit, it wasn't something he wanted to deal with, but the situation in itself wasn't too much of a problem. Luckily for him, Naomi wouldn't be around to ask anymore questions or stare at him any longer, as she was quickly called over by Count and Tabloid when she hesitated. She followed them out, quickly joining back in on the joking. The door shut and the chattering became more and more muffled until they could no longer hear them.

Aside from Long Caster and Wiseman, the only other person to remain in the room was Jaeger. He made sure that no one had stayed behind and that nobody could hear them before he looked to the other three men. "That speech we got from that guy...we aren't dealing with a possible comeback of A World With No Boundaries, are we? Maybe some new terrorist group?"

"No, it's not A World With No Boundaries," Pixy answered quickly, already knowing for a fact that this guy only had slight similarities with them. "If Count and David are right, then it sounds to me like they're fighting for Erusea. They want borders to remain and they want to bring an end to the war with a definite Erusean victory. The only thing that he probably shares with AWWNB is the whole 'kill x amount of people to save x amount of people' thing that he's got going on. It's not like it's an uncommon belief, either. Like you said, Jaeger, you cripple the opposing force, be it their military or..." He had to pause. There was just no escaping his past, now was there? He sighed, reluctantly going on. "Be it their military...or civilians. It's possible that he might try to attack somewhere in Osea. Likely Oured, to take out the capital. The question is, _when_?"

"There's no way to tell right away," Long Caster said with a concerned look on his face. "Who knows when they'd try it? And with Clemens possibly leading us down the wrong track, there's no way to know if we could figure out the date."

Jaeger frowned, and for the first time since Pixy had known him, he heard him sound close to afraid. "I have a family in Oured. My wife and son are there. You don't really think they'll attack the capital, do you?"

Wiseman's shoulders fell, and he looked frustrated and tired. Pixy could understand why. Jaeger, Wiseman, Long Caster, and even Pixy had all been working hard to keep up a confident, brave face for the rest of them and it was starting to take its toll. Wiseman was the glue that held them together. If they saw that he wasn't sure and that he was afraid, then the panic would spread. Around them, he was more willing to let his guard down. He closed his eyes for a moment to think, letting out an almost defeated sigh.

"We _all_ have family in Oured," Wiseman said, opening his eyes again and staring ahead with a blank expression. "But we don't know for sure if they'll even attack Osea, so there's no need to go and get worked up over nothing when it might not even happen. It's more likely that they'll try and take out military forces in Usea, so we should contact our bases along the coast and tell them to be on the lookout. We already have the IUN on standby if we need the help. With the way things are going, we might need their help after all. Oh, that reminds me. An old friend of yours is in charge of Fort Grays now and he wanted me to give you his regards."

Pixy hadn't stuck around long enough to officially meet the new base commander before he left, and it surprised him to hear that someone he knew was in charge. It couldn't have been Cipher, since he was still in Osea and he never quit being a mercenary until he retired. There was only one other person that could still be serving, and still was if his memory served him correctly. Pixy rolled his eyes, chuckling. "So, PJ actually decided to get back in the game. And here I was thinking that the moron was taking a vacation. Well, it's nice to know he's being useful for once. If you end up chatting with him again, let him know that I said 'hello'. You're also free to tell him that he's still an idiot."

Wiseman raised an eyebrow, an amused gleam in his eyes. "You really are old friends, huh?"

"Eh. I wouldn't say we're '_friends_' but we used to work together and thanks to Cipher we end up seeing one another every now and then," Pixy answered with a shrug. He skipped over the part about shooting PJ down and causing him to be in a wheelchair for several months, since they'd probably put two and two together once they realized who PJ was. It's not like it was a big mystery, it was just something they avoided talking about. "Our relationship's always been kinda shaky, but he's a good kid. Heh. Not really a kid anymore, is he?"

"Far from it, I'd say. He didn't seem like a bad guy, though," Wiseman replied with a smile. He chuckled. "I can't promise I'll pass on the message word for word, but I'll still let him know you said hi."

"Thanks, Wiseman," Pixy said with a grin. If he had the chance, he might just pass the message on himself. He'd have to set aside some time, but who knew when they'd both be free? Probably better if he stayed out of it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out of the window that showed a view of the rest of the base. It had been windy lately, and he wasn't looking forward to going outside and facing the weather, though he knew he wouldn't have a choice. The weather had been flip flopping between hot and cold, but it wouldn't be long before he could finally, comfortably wear his jacket. "Well, I'm going to head off. I'll try and keep an eye on Clemens. Here's hoping we're overthinking this, though."

Nodding to the three of them, he turned and headed for the door. He wanted some alone time, away from people that expected him to know everything about radical ideas simply because of a stupid chapter from his past. They meant no harm, but it would have been nice if they didn't jump to conclusions. It shouldn't bother him as much as it did, and he realized that there wasn't any escaping a stigma because of what he'd almost done, and yet he still found himself upset by it. Even his own daughter acted like she expected him to know someone's motives for something based on a single speech.

_Guess I should have known what would come from this. It's my own fault, really_. He thought with a sigh. _Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it_.

* * *

**1020hrs.**

The door to his quarters closed behind him, and the lock on the door clicked to let him know that no one could barge in now. Pixy took off his jacket and tossed it onto his bed, opening the blinds to allow the mid-morning light access. He opened up his laptop on the desk in the room, typing in his password and finding a notification that someone had emailed him. Curiously, he opened the mail application and clicked on the recent email. Suspicious at first, solely due to the fact that the message was labeled _[No Subject]_ and the address that sent it was hidden, he read it regardless. If a virus was about to be downloaded onto his computer or something like that, he could always just throw it out the window or something and get a new one.

It was a pleasant surprise to see that it was from his son and not a hacker. As most messages were from him, it was short and to the point. '_Finally been stationed somewhere else - in Usea again. Unpacking now. I'm bored. Call me when you can._' Pixy couldn't help but crack a small smile as he read the short email, not surprised at all by the phrasing of it. It sounded exactly like something he'd say, which left little to no doubt in his mind about who it was. Shaking his head, he closed the window with the message and moved the cursor over to his contacts, searching for Roland's name until he finally reached it, pressing the 'video call' button.

His webcam was activated and the computer opened up a new window that displayed an image of his own face while the word 'CALLING...' appeared with a trilling sound. The sound and message continued for a couple of seconds before the call was finally answered. At first, the video showed nothing more than an empty office seat until someone plopped down into it and leaned back. He was greeted by the face of his son, light brown hair slicked back and blue eyes shining even though they were a little bloodshot from a lack of sleep. He was wearing his dress uniform, his name and rank displayed proudly on it. He grinned and waved to the camera as a greeting. "_Well, I see you got my message._"

"You couldn't have used your personal email?" Pixy asked him in an almost teasing way, raising an eyebrow. "You had me worried that I was clicking on some scam or something like that."

Roland shrugged, not looking or sounding concerned in any way. "_I was already logged into my work email. There wasn't any reason _not_ to use it, and it isn't like the military will do anything to me for it. I'm too important to them._"

"Somebody's awfully modest," Pixy said, rolling his eyes. Roland laughed, but didn't try and dispute the claim. There was a pause as they tried to think of something to talk about. Admittedly, Pixy's relationship with his son had always been a bit tricky. They weren't very much alike, and if anything, Roland took after his mother more than he took after Pixy. And when Roland joined the air force after he moved out, their relationship didn't get much better. They'd reached a common ground after the first Continental War and had a much stronger relationship than they had many years ago, but Roland was always wrapped up in his work and they rarely spoke. Pixy, hoping to avoid an awkward silence, asked the first thing that came to mind. "So, you finally got sent back to Usea, huh? You planning on fighting in this war, too?"

"_Eh, it all depends. North Point is staying out of the war as long as they can, and that's where they decided to send me. Again. As usual..._" Roland's tone changed to one of mild annoyance as he shuffled some things around on his desk, talking while he unpacked and tidied up, apparently. He glanced at the screen, trying for a small smile. "_I'm not worried about it. If what I've been hearing is true, it sounds like the LRSSG is doing my job for me. Especially that new pilot. From what I hear, she and I have a couple of things in common. Fort Grays...Usea...Erusea's 'invincible' fleets. Not to mention the name. So, tell me, how's 'Solo Wing Strikes' doing?_"

Pixy chuckled, shaking his head. "Heh. _That's_ what they're calling her?"

"_Eh. It was a joke that I heard it from some of my old friends that work around Fort Grays. Apparently someone from there came up with it._" His smile remained, but the subject changed to a slightly more serious one. "_For real, though. How's Naomi doing?_"

"I can't really tell most of the time. She seems alright, but I worry that she might be a little stressed with her new role. Not to mention that there's still some tension between the LRSSG pilots and all of Naomi's friends from Zapland," Pixy replied, slowly tapping his finger on his desk to keep from jumping into a rant about every opinion he had on the topic. "I spoke with your mother about my concerns. She's adjusting well, and everyone's starting to trust one another, but sooner or later all that pent up anger that she has after her time in prison is either going to get out on the ground or it's going to kill her in the air. She flies like she has a death wish."

"_Well, if the rumors are true, then it sounds like she might outdo both of us_," Roland said as he looked over some framed photos he'd pulled out, setting them out of Pixy's view on his own desk. "_I guess it's time we start admitting that we're an old generation of aces. All I fly now are escorts, if that, and my little sister is out here blowing Erusea's shit to pieces and putting me to shame. The infamous Grim Reaper apparently can't compete with a trigger-happy ex-con, huh? The IUN is keeping me out of it because everyone here in North Point is telling us to let Three Strikes handle it. I'd be lying if I'm not a little jealous that Naomi's getting so much attention, but what did we all expect from her, really?_"

The tone that he used was a little bitter, and Pixy couldn't really fault him for being jealous. After all, the IUN acted like they owned him all because of his title and actions during the Continental War. Now that they had no use for him, he was stuck with desk duty while his sister went out and fought. Roland had been a good pilot. He still was a good pilot. But he was right in saying that his time had passed. New pilots were taking to the skies every day, and inevitably someone that was better would rise up and take the spotlight. Mobius One's time had passed, as had Pixy and Cipher's, and even the Razgriz. No matter how hard any of them tried to fight it, 'reliving the glory days' would rarely work out.

Pixy would always be proud of all of his children, and Roland deserved every bit of admiration he still received, but Naomi was rising to the top and she was going to need all the help she could get. He hoped that Roland wouldn't resent Naomi, as they'd been close when Naomi was younger. He was the first one that she told about wanting to be a pilot, and used to tell her all about different aircraft. Whenever he visited after the war, he'd tell Naomi about his experiences. Pixy would listen to his stories to, having been fighting on the ground during that war. But everything about planes and the battles that he could tell to a ten-year-old had been said, from how much he hated flying the F-4 to how exhilarating it was to fly an F-22 for the first time.

Naomi never found out about his identity as the 'Ribbon Fighter' either. Every time she tried to bring it up to him, asking once or twice if he was Mobius One, it was always met with a dismissive 'yeah, I knew him' or 'we fought a couple of battles together', which never satisfied Naomi. Something told them that she probably figured it out, or at the very least suspected it, but she stopped pressing the question after a few years. Pixy always thought that Roland didn't enjoy the fame he had, since he never actively spoke about it unless someone brought it up, but after his last promotion it seemed that he had started taking more pride in it. That was the only reason that he'd be jealous or threatened by Naomi's rising fame.

Nobody in their family joined the military for fame, but receiving some recognition for their accomplishments was nice. And the military had been better at giving them said recognition, instead of letting their commanders (that sat and did nothing) the credit. Hopefully Roland wasn't letting it go to his head. Pixy noticed that the awkward silence was trying to make a comeback, and he could see a somewhat frustrated look on his son's face. Wracking his brain for something else to say, he decided that they'd talk about the topic that they had in common. Something that they knew well. Work. "The LRSSG and the IUN might be taking on an Erusean submarine soon. You probably heard about it. Their captain is some madman that sounds like he wants to go on some killing spree."

"_I heard about that on the news_." Roland said distractedly as he wrote something down on the papers in front of him, then rummaged through some more boxes. "_The _Alicorn_. Captain is Matias Torres, right?_"

"Yeah, that's his name," Pixy answered. "You know him?"

Roland shrugged as he sat back in his chair, unwrapping the paper from around what was likely a delicate decoration. "_More or less_," he replied, the crunching of the paper almost drowning his voice out. Finally, it stopped, and he was allowed to continue without any interference. "_He's had quite the service record and used to be the captain of a ship in the oh so great 'Invincible Fleet'. Heh. Erusea can get pretty arrogant with their naming, huh? We left the fleet in ruins, just sinking and burning in the harbor. I think I was the one that sunk the ship he was on. A little while after the war was over, someone showed me something he'd said or written or whatever and the guy just went on a rant about how much of a monster I was. That lasted a few months I think? I never really cared and after that I stopped hearing about him. I figured that he retired._"

"Nope, he's still keeping busy," Pixy said, the story raising some concerns. "The way things are looking, they might not be able to take care of it without destroying the _Alicorn_. If he hated you that much, imagine how much he'll probably hate Naomi..."

Roland's eyes widened and he looked towards the camera with a worried look on his face. As if he came to some horrible realization. As it turns out, he had. "_They can't find out that Naomi and I are related. I mean, it's possible her identity might have been leaked somewhere and mine to, but if Torres finds out about our relation...well, I'm just worried that he'll take this as an opportunity to take revenge,_" he said quickly, looking around the room nervously before his eyes flicked back to Pixy. "_I couldn't care less about the guy, but I'm pretty sure that what I did is what sent him over the edge. If he has a really personal stake in this, then he might stop at nothing until Naomi's dead. Hopefully they don't know, but if they do then I don't want to be responsible for her death. At least tell her to be careful._"

"Careful isn't in her vocabulary." Pixy knew that Roland was right, but he also knew that Naomi wouldn't listen to them. If somebody pointed out the dangers, she'd probably take it as an invitation to fight even harder. She just didn't know when to give in. He sighed. "I'll try and tell her, but there's no guarantee that she'll listen."

"_Yeah, that's one more thing you two have in common_," Roland said with a smirk. His worry seemed to be fading and he'd gone back to what he was doing. "_Just keep her out of trouble if you can, since I'm not allowed to get involved._"

"Like I said, I'll try," Pixy answered, debating getting onto Roland for his first comment. It was true, his kids probably learned the stubbornness from him, but he wasn't going to admit it. Roland and Samantha had their moments, but Naomi was probably the only one that could compete with him when it came to being stubborn. Even if she had mellowed out as an adult. "Anyways, I should probably leave you to your unpacking. Don't want any of your higher ups getting onto you for talking on the job."

"_Pfft. 'On the job'. Yeah, funny you should say that, since I'm not getting paid for this crap,_" Roland scoffed. "_Half of these boxes are freaking paperwork that they insist I drag with me everywhere. And you know as well as I do that I'd get nothing more than a slap on the wrist from the top brass for slacking off._"

"I wouldn't get too cocky, son," Pixy answered. His words, although a warning, were still light due to his own amusement.

Roland was about to respond, but the faint sound of someone calling his name from offscreen drew his attention away and he looked towards what Pixy assumed was his door. "_What is it? Wha..._now_? They can't wait until later? Ha. Of course they can't. Alright, I'll be there in a minute. Thanks._" He looked back at his screen and at Pixy and sighed. "_Well, the generals they got sitting on their asses up here found out that I arrived and now want me to come and chat with them over lunch. Smug bastards. They have us sitting here, doing nothing, and practically living in luxury while everyone in Osea gets to go out and have all the fun. I should be working too, you know! I should have a say in whether or not I work!_"

"Well, if they gave that much free will then nobody would do anything. You'd probably be one of the few working," Pixy said. "Well, I have stuff to occupy myself with here. I should probably give your mother a call, so I'll let you go. Have fun at lunch."

"_Yeah, I'm sure we'll have a lot of laughs..._" Roland replied flatly, scowling distastefully at the mere thought of it. "_But yeah, I'll try. Anyways, I'll talk to you later. Bye, Dad. Tell everyone I said hello!_"

"Heh. Wilco," Pixy replied, smiling. "Bye."

And with that, the call was ended. Pixy relaxed in his seat with a tired sigh as he shut down his computer. Roland wasn't typically very chatty, and their conversations were often short and scattered. It was just how things had always been. Still, it was nice that he'd had a chance to talk with his son. It still worried him that Erusea knew about Naomi's real name, especially now that Roland had to bring it up and remind him. If McKinsey and Matthews truly succeeded in spreading the word, then Naomi could very well be in a lot of danger. Not that she wasn't already, now she was just in even more. And if Torres decided to take his revenge, then that put her in even more danger.

He let out a frustrated groaned at the thought. Every parent wanted to do whatever they could to protect their children, and here he was, still completely helpless. Just sit back and let her learn on her own. Let her crash and burn. That was what Emma told him to do, and it's what he needed to do. It was still painful to watch. He knew one thing. If Clemens was really out to harm Naomi in any way, he wasn't going to sit back. McKinsey learned what happened when someone messed with Pixy's kids, and if Clemens needed the same lesson then he was happily going to provide it. Or maybe he could let Naomi handle it. Give her something constructive to do with all that anger.

Whatever had to happen, was going to happen, he decided. He could help in whatever way he could, but ultimately he had to leave it in the proper hands. And it sucked.

* * *

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
**1501hrs.**

Sol Squadron all sat inside, the weather finally providing a change from the usual dry, hot days that took up most of their time. Winds from the north were finally providing them with autumn temperatures, and storms were coming along with it. Everyone was inside today, the winds being strong enough that it was decided that no one was going to be flying anywhere today. The pilots were left with nothing to do while the researchers were free to continue their work. It was an uneventful Sunday afternoon, and Mihaly found himself agitated by the lack of activity. Ionela insisted that the break would do him good, but he was frustrated by it. If he could still fight someone, at his age, in a narrow valley with winds and lightning to worry about, then flying through a bit of rain and wind was nothing.

Every argument that he presented was promptly shut down by everyone around him, even if his subordinates were more respectful about it than his granddaughter was. The crew room had enough activity to keep everyone occupied, and Mihaly had taken up a seat by the window to keep an eye on the skies. He was hoping that he'd be able to figure out when the storm might start to clear up, but so far everything was dark gray outside. He figured an hour or two at most, but the on and off storms were unpredictable. Holding back a sigh, Mihaly looked away from the window and stared down at the cup of tea that Ionela and Alma had made for him, not really feeling much like drinking it anymore.

Around him, everyone was chatting or finding ways to entertain themselves. Wit and Seymour were watching the news, talking about the Erusean submarine that had recently mutinied. According to everything they'd heard, Osea's military and government leaders were coming down hard on Erusea and there'd been plenty of bickering about said submarine. Osea apparently didn't believe that the sub truly had mutinied, and were pinning the blame on Erusea's leaders. Ionela had said that the Princess was getting involved with it, and was struggling to help convince them that the submarine and its crew were acting on their own. _Politics_. Mihaly shook his head. He never much cared for the politics that went on with the military. All he wanted was to take to the skies, where problems like that disappeared for the most part.

On the other side of the room, Roald was playing a game of chess with Alma, quite obviously letting the ten-year-old win. She seemed suspicious of Roald's ineptness as she claimed yet another one of his pieces, but he insisted that she was a better player than he was and was winning fair and square. Mihaly heard Alma declare that after this game they'd be having a rematch and he cracked a small smile. She was a stubborn one. Like her mother and grandmother had been, she was as smart as they came and could smell a setup a mile away. Mihaly probably should have warned Roald, but he figured that the kid would have figured it out by now. He and the rest of the squadron acted like older brothers or father figures to Ionela and Alma, and they honestly should have figured out the girls' intelligence by now.

Hermann was busy reading a book as he sat on the somewhat uncomfortable couch that had been placed in the room. Or rather on one of them. They'd set up two, back to back, right in the middle of the room. The setup of the room reminded Mihaly of a hospital waiting room, just without the smell of hand sanitizer and sterile wipes. No one else minded the setup or how stiff and uncomfortable the furniture was to sit on. Maybe it was because he was getting older, but he avoided sitting at most of the chairs in the room simply because of how painful it was. Hermann didn't seem to have an issue, reading the book he had without any issues focusing or anything.

Ionela was the odd one out, sitting across from Mihaly and scribbling down the answers on her schoolwork. She and Alma were homeschooled, having been pulled in and out of regular schools their whole lives, but Alma had less responsibilities than her older sister and Ionela was always slower to finish her work. Whenever he had the time, Mihaly would grade her papers. Sometimes he could trust his wingmen to help them, other times it was the researchers that took time out of their work to lend a hand. Typically it was Dr. Schroeder's assistants, Simon and Massa, that provided the help the girls needed. Mihaly was grateful to them, but never found the time or way to thank them, so he just left it alone.

Without even looking away from her schoolwork and barely breaking her concentration, Ionela suddenly broke the silence between the two of them. "What are you thinking about now, Grandfather? And why haven't you touched your tea?"

"What I'm thinking about should be of no concern to you, child," Mihaly pretended to scold her, but the tone he used was unusually light for him. He was trying to cheer her up, knowing she'd been stressed lately, but she sent a glare his way and went back to her test. Mihaly sighed and took a sip from his tea, expecting it to be warm and trying not to spit it out when he realized it was cold. He'd let it sit for too long, and now the flavor was ruined. He set it back down, fighting off a grimace, and slid it away from him. "And I let the tea sit for too long. I'll have to make some more later."

"If you spent lest time mulling and more time keeping up with your health, then you wouldn't have this issue to begin with." Ionela seemed mildly amused, but it was mostly said in a 'I told you so' way. She glanced at the cup and shook her head, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and finishing up the last of her work. She sat up with a sigh, placing the finished papers into a specific book and slamming them shut, shoving them towards the window and out of her way. Reaching for his mug, she stood up and began to walk away, "I'll make you some more, now. You should save your strength. You've been coming back more and more beat up and it's about time you started taking it easy on the ground."

"Hmm. I don't think those have anything to do with the other, Ionela," Mihaly said. She didn't answer him, instead giving him a look that told him he'd be in trouble if he tried arguing and that he wasn't going to win. She was as stubborn as he was sometimes. Mihaly watched her leave, crossing the room to where they'd set up a coffee maker. Ionela started to get to work on getting the water first, and Mihaly didn't try and call after her to tell her not to worry about it. There wasn't any use in arguing.

As he was about to return to his thoughts and watching the storm, the door was suddenly opened. It creaked as someone pushed it open and entered, all eyes instinctively looking towards the source of the disturbance. A man in an Erusean dress uniform was standing there, a dripping raincoat slung over one of his arms and carrying a military backpack in his hands. He was tall, about mid thirties, and he had dark brown hair that, although dry, was ruffled and looked a bit unprofessional compared to the rest of his appearance. All conversation was cut off as everyone stopped to observe the newcomer. Taken off guard by everyone staring at him, his eyes flicked around the room once as he nervously took in everyone's appearance in the same way that they did to him.

Mihaly at first figured that he was some new transfer that Erusea sent in, noting the rank on his shoulder. Some Major that was probably here because he was seeking a promotion. Mihaly planned to pay him no mind, but once the attention was off of the newcomer, he made his way over to Mihaly, stopping at the table he was sitting at. Mihaly didn't look up at him at first, but the man finally addressed him and he had no other option. "Excuse me, sir. You _are_ General Shilage, correct?"

"Unfortunately so..." Mihaly muttered, glancing at his reflection in the window before turning around to face him. "Yes, I'm General Shilage. Is there something I can do for you?"

The major looked startled very briefly before he snapped his feet together and straightened up, offering a stiff salute as he introduced himself. "Major Phillip Allard, sir. Codename is Glitnir. It's an honor to finally meet you." Only upon hearing the codename did he finally recognize who this man was. They'd never met in person, but he'd heard good things about him. He was an Erusean agent, and a very good one from what Mihaly had heard. Glitnir was the one that was supposed to be getting him information on Three Strikes. So was that why he'd come here? Or was he here to tell him, in person, that his mission had failed? Mihaly doubted it was the latter.

Motioning for him to relax, Mihaly moved Ionela's things towards him to free up the seat in front of him. "I was expecting you to stay in touch," he said. Mihaly nodded towards the seat. "Please, sit down. I take it you have something for me?"

"Yes, sir, I do." Glitnir slid into the seat, setting his rain coat on the back of his chair before he did. After that, he pulled the backpack into his lap and unzipped it, pulling out a dainty looking laptop and some rather thick files that were marked with various different letters and numbers. None of their titles gave any indication as to what was in them, but Mihaly could probably guess what it was. As he unpacked what he could and what was relevant, Glitnir explained himself as he did. "I've heard many things about you, sir. Imagine my surprise when I heard that you had a job for me. Of course, Erusea already assigned me to infiltrate...well, let's just say the mission failed. Regardless, I heard a lot about this ace and I wanted to know more myself."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Mihaly asked him levelly, eyeing the file closest to him. It was tempting to just grab it, but he didn't want to admit that he was looking forward to it. That he was actually excited in finally putting a face to his opponent.

Glitnir gave a small, almost cocky smile as he finished and set the bag at his feet. "Yes, sir. And then some. Take a look." He slid the largest of the files towards Mihaly. "This here is everything that we dug up on Three Strikes, from birthplace to a - believe it or not - recent criminal record. While I was at Stonehenge, Three Strikes' squadron was there overnight and they celebrated. I had a brief, meaningless conversation. Personality is nothing like what you'd expect from a feared ace."

"Three Strikes should be respected, not feared. Why should you fear another man, especially one who's capabilities just barely match your own?" Mihaly asked with a blank expression, wanting to be left alone to read in peace. He looked up at Glitnir, who was watching him expectantly. "Does anyone else know of this information?"

A guilty look crossed Glitnir's face. "Yes. I figured that you should be the first to learn, since you've been searching for this information since your first encounter. Unfortunately, I had to speak with my higher ups first. By now, several people are aware of Three Strikes' real identity. If anything, they were briefed on it specifically, for tactical reasons. If you ask me, it created a bit of a stir among our soldiers. Read the file and you'll find out why." He looked down at his watch, missing the disappointment on Mihaly's face as he did. "Well, General, as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I have a few other people here that I need to speak with. My superiors asked me to check in with Dr. Schroeder. Not my area of expertise, but try telling them that. Happy hunting, sir. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."

Mihaly watched as Glitnir stood up, pulling his raincoat over his uniform and grabbing everything that Mihaly didn't need. Once he was all packed up again, he gave another salute, and set off for the door. Once he was gone, Mihaly relaxed in his seat and readied himself to open the file. Ionela studied the door, then looked at Mihaly. Without a word, she set his fresh cup of tea down and grabbed her school books, recognizing without him having to tell her that he wanted to be alone to read. It was obvious from the look on her face that she knew it was work related. She didn't protest, though, and instead walked over to see how the chess game between Ionela and Alma was going.

Once he was finally alone, he took a sip from his tea and opened the folder. He did a double take, not sure if he was reading the right file at first, but he read the name and the doubt ebbed away. The picture in the file was of a young woman, in her early twenties, wearing an Osean dress uniform. Something about the grin on her face was odd to see. She looked too bright-eyed and young to be the same ruthless pilot that he'd faced in Yinshi Valley. There wasn't any way that they were same, but the name could have confirmed his suspicions. Something about her reminded him of his grandchildren. Brown eyes and a wide smile. It looked as if she didn't have a care in the world. Was _this_ Three Strikes? It was impossible. Furrowing his brow, he read on, past the ID photo:

_OADF FILE - CLASSIFIED - THREE STRIKES_

**NAME:**_ Foulke, Naomi H._  
**SEX:** _Female_  
**DATE OF BIRTH:**_ December 20th, 1997_  
**HEIGHT:** _170 cm_  
**WEIGHT:**_ 56 kg_  
**HAIR:**_ Brown_  
**EYES:**_ Brown_  
**BLOOD TYPE:**_ A_  
**PLACE OF BIRTH:**_ Oured, Osea_

_**BIOGRAPHY-**_  
_Captain Naomi Foulke, newly appointed flight leader of the Long Range Strategic Strike Group's Strider Squadron, is the daughter of former Belkan mercenary Larry Foulke (better known as Solo Wing Pixy) and younger sister to Lieutenant Samantha Foulke [See Personnel File #-] and Lieutenant Colonel Roland Foulke [See File #- Title: MOBIUS]. Born and raised in the capital, Oured, Foulke graduated high school with high marks and enrolled in the Osean Air Defense Force Academy for her college and flight training. She graduated in September of 2018 and was transferred to the IUN to serve under Colonel Matthews' command at Fort Grays Island Air Base off the coast of Usea. While stationed there, she served in the 508th Tactical Fighter Squadron (Mage Squadron) as their number 2._

_In her first sorties, nothing incredibly notable took place. Captain Turner and Captain Pierce reported that she showed quick thinking during the initial battles she took part in, and claimed that she showed good promise as a pilot in spite of having little to no combat experience at the time._

_**OPERATION LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER & THE DEATH OF VINCENT HARLING-**_

_Foulke's career turning point came on June 6th, shortly after the start of the Second Usean Continental War (the Lighthouse War). She participated in three operations prior to this date, and was sent on her first solo operation by Colonel Matthews personal request. Her job was to reach the ISEV by flying into Selatapura low and weaving her way through Erusea's radar net surrounding the city. The goal was to secure air superiority and provide a safe landing zone for Sea Goblin to begin their rescue of former president Vincent Harling. While the operation initially went smoothly, Erusea deployed several MQ-99 UAVs to intercept, and Sea Goblin's crew was ultimately overpowered and killed._

_Harling and Colonel Johnson (who had been providing protection to Mr. Harling) commandeered and boarded an Erusean V-22 while Foulke, alongside Mage and Golem Squadrons, provided air support and cover from the drones after Sea Goblin's demise. While attempting to retreat, the V-22 was hit by a MQ-99's missile which damaged the cockpit of the aircraft and ultimately caused the death of Colonel Johnson, leaving Harling as the only one aboard the aircraft and in control of it. Mage Squadron was to provide close air support for Harling while their AWACS attempted to direct him out of the combat air space. It is unknown if Harling knowingly turned his aircraft towards the ISEV, but he was unable to confirm our suspicions himself likely due to the damage the aircraft sustained._

_UAVs surrounded the aircraft, and while the IFF would not allow any allied aircraft to get a lock on the V-22, when Foulke turned her aircraft allegedly to fire at the MQ-99s a missile struck Harling's V-22 shortly after she fired. Details surrounding the incident are still being analyzed, and we have no information on whether it was an unfortunate accident on Foulke's part or if the missile came from an enemy. Foulke was court martialed after the incident, at the insistence of many (including her base commander), and was transferred to the 444th Air Base towards the end of June._

_**SPARE SQUADRON & 'THREE STRIKES'-**_

_After her court martial, Foulke was stripped of her rank and transferred to a penal unit in Zapland to serve with the 444th Squadron (known by the name Spare Squadron). Having been convicted of murder, she was given the penal unit's trademark 'sin lines' that former Colonel D. McKinsey used as a mark of shame among the squadron. These sin lines were simply white lines painted onto the tail of their aircraft, obscuring the tail code and any other markings (save for the occasional personal emblem) and making them easy to identify from the air or ground. The amount of lines that a pilot received depended upon the severity of his or her crime, and while most of Spare Squadron received only one line, Foulke was given three._

_These three lines earned her a reputation among both Osean and Erusean forces. It can be noted (although this could be solely due to coincidence) that after Foulke's transfer to Spare Squadron, the squadron began to take fewer casualties during their operations. Many within our own military saw Spare as being expendable, being made up entirely of convicts, and as such sent them on operations that were deemed too risky to use regular forces. When Foulke joined the squadron, showing surprising skill, many within the squadron accepted her as their unofficial leader and those that followed her lead were said to have had the highest chance of survival. Whether this can be held to any real value is to be determined._

_After providing support for the LRSSG's Cyclops and Strider Squadrons over Yinshi Valley, Foulke caught the attention of several prominent figures within the Osean military. Major Paul Wiseman, the LRSSG's company commander, provided a report noting the skill and courage Foulke displayed during the mission. The three squadrons faced an attack from three Erusean fighters, among them an ace known only by the name Mr. X. While most of Spare retreated, three aircraft remained behind, Foulke being among them. They sustained heavy losses, only four LRSSG pilots surviving the encounter. Foulke engaged the unknown ace in the valley until the storm forced the enemy to retreat. Maj. Wiseman vouched for Foulke and the two other pilots, stating that without their support they might have had more losses._

_Due mostly to the actions of the squadron, the 444th was turned into a legitimate squadron and their base was to be moved further inland. Colonel McKinsey, having been under investigation after information given to the LRSSG by Spare Squadron, was to be transferred to the front lines and requested that Foulke and Spare 2 [William O'Connor - TAC Count], provide support and escort for his aircraft. They were intercepted by an Erusean prototype drone. The drone opened fire on the escorts and McKinsey's transport and Foulke was ordered to engage. After a fast paced dogfight, Foulke ultimately succeeded in destroying the drone, which was being pursued by Cyclops Squadron._

_Cyclops guided them back to New Arrows Air Base where Spare 11 [Peter Hartmann - TAC Tabloid] and civilian prisoner, Avril Mead, had been transferred at the last minute. There, McKinsey was confronted and arrested after evidence was provided that he was working for Erusea to sell out Osea. He has since escaped custody, perhaps in due to the sloppy investigation that Foulke and her companions conducted, resulting in less than substantial security and underestimation from military police._

_Foulke, O'Connor, Hartmann, Mead, and Spare's AWACS, Airman Joshua Marsh, were transferred to the Long Range Strategic Strike Group after McKinsey's arrest and their ranks were reinstated. Foulke received a promotion to the rank of captain and was placed as the flight leader to Strider Squadron, which had been left on standby and severely understaffed after the operation over Yinshi Valley. She adapted her aircraft's markings from regular sin lines to what appears to be a set of talons or 'Three Strikes' as they've come to be called. She's also taken on her father's legacy by including a red right wing into her livery, one that covers half of her aircraft's wing._

_**OADF FINAL VERDICT-**_  
_Naomi Foulke is to be monitored and her flight data to be observed closely. She displays a disregard and general distaste towards most authority, and has received a reprimand more than once within the past year. With possibly strong Belkan ties and an unpredictable personality and fighting style, she can be seen as a risk to our security, likely easily swayed and possibly one to turn traitor. Although the investigation is still underway to confirm exactly who or what was responsible for Harling's death, it's still questionable whether Foulke can truly be trusted. Even after having been cleared of the charge and pardoned, General Orson Perrault demands that we not rule out the possibility that Foulke did indeed kill Harling. This order shall remain until hard evidence is received that rules Foulke out entirely._

_[END OADF FILE]_

_**ERUSEAN ROYAL AIR FORCE NOTES-**_  
_Three Strikes, occasionally referred to as Solo Wing's Ghost, is determined to be a high threat target and is to be eliminated at all cost. Subject is reckless and unpredictable, a persistent enemy that refuses to relent until the chosen target is destroyed. Responsible for the deaths of many, Three Strikes has also gained the interest of several mercenary units, and there is a price on her head. Thus far, all attempts on her life have since failed. It can be noted that she acts as a protector to her wingmen, and tends to react more quickly and haphazardly when one of them is targeted. Use this to your advantage whenever possible._

[FILE RETRIEVED AND EDITED BY MAJ. P. ALLARD - APPROVED BY GEN. F. PARRISH]

Mihaly frowned, checking over the file again in disbelief to make sure he really had the right file, but this was it. A twenty-one-year old girl had been the one to make a mockery out of him and his squadron? The one that had been humiliating and killing their troops? The defender of Stonehenge and one of the lead planes to the infamous Snowbirds? Osea was foolish to give someone that young and unpredictable command of a squadron. But yet, he couldn't deny that she did have skill. She was the only one to engage him in Yinshi Valley, and fought in spite of the storm. He'd gone easy on her, but he still wanted to know what she could do when pushed to her full potential.

He looked back at the photo. So this truly was the face of his opponent, of the great Three Strikes that seemed to challenge him for his title as King of the Skies. She could keep up with him, but could she surpass him? Mihaly was confident that she wouldn't be able to win, lacking the years of experience that he did. He wanted to prepare his own squadron for their next meeting with Three Strikes, but it was doubtful that she could take on all of them. He wasn't so sure that he wanted the rest of Sol Squadron to take on this Three Strikes. This was his rival, and he wanted to be the one to defend his title, without any help from them.

Her wingmen sounded as though they were her weakness. Perhaps there was some reason for this, but either way, if they took out her friends then they could cripple her emotionally, then move in for the kill. Mihaly knew that wouldn't be hard for them. When they met on the battlefield next, Mihaly fully intended to settle the score that they had since Yinshi Valley. Three Strikes would be nothing more than another ace that he'd taken down. Another cocky, young pilot that got in over her head. It was a shame. From what he'd seen, she was a worthy pilot. At least so far. In a war, things could change in an instant, and there was no telling what might change for this...Naomi and her squadron.

He looked around the room, making sure that everyone was still there. It seemed as though no one had noticed or cared that he was reading, but he caught Wit giving him a curious look. Mihaly called out to them, "Wit! Seymour! Come here. Roald, Hermann! You as well. I have something that I want to show you."

The four of them instantly jumped up and set down what they were doing before rushing over to him. Ionela took Roald's place at the chess game, examining the board so she could jump in and keep Alma entertained. Hermann marked his place in his book, tossing it onto the couch with a _thud_ and scrambling to his feet. His four wingmen all crowded around his table, Hermann and Roald trying to read Three Strikes' file. He kept it shielded from them until he was sure he had their attention. It was Hermann that finally asked what he wanted, using the nickname that Mihaly had told them time and time again to quit calling him. "What is it, King? Do we have a new sortie?"

Mihaly ignored the nickname, letting it slide that one time, and set the file down on the table. He slid it around so that they could all read it clearly. "My suspicions about the identity of my new opponent has been confirmed. This is the daughter of Larry Foulke, the infamous Solo Wing Pixy." He sat back, watching as they all read what he had, looking up at him with as much shock he'd initially felt. "The file isn't lying. _That_ is Three Strikes. And _she_ is the pilot that we're going to defeat."

* * *

**Farbanti, Erusea.**  
**1917hrs.**

Rosa looked up as her father and General Parrish entered the office, slamming the door shut behind them. Leo, who had been napping prior to their disturbance, looked up at Rosa and then towards her father as he took a seat at his usual chair. His attention then shifted to Parrish, who glared at Rosa as he too sat down. Things had been tense between the two of them, but he still refused to pass up any opportunity to try and shift her beliefs back to their cause. She suspected that the only thing keeping him at a reasonable distance was Leo and even Henri, both of them having made it clear that they were suspicious of him. Her mother had been very curt with him as well, making it clear that his aggressive politics had caused a disturbance among more people than Rosa and the family's bodyguard.

Her father had allowed her to get involved with their work once again, including her after claiming that he still trusted her and thought that she was responsible enough. Parrish had been opposed to the idea, but he didn't argue with it for very long. They had another, more important problem to worry about. Rosa tilted her head to the side as she watched her father, motioning for Leo to lay back down and keep quiet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her dog obey the order, resting his head on her feet. But her focus was on her father. He'd been in a phone conference with some Erusean and Osean officials, and apparently it hadn't gone well. He let out a sigh and buried his face into the palms of his hands. No one said a word for several minutes, and he remained like that, visibly stressed.

Before anyone could try and ask what was wrong, he looked up, adjusting his position so that he could lean his head against his hand. It mirrored Rosa's own 'musing posture' and she knew he would talk when he was ready. She sat patiently, with her hands folded in her lap. Parrish didn't display the same courtesy, checking his watch and drumming his fingers as if he had somewhere to be and wanted to hurry any discussion along. Rosa kept any annoyance hidden, not letting it last very long and maintained her calm composure. At last, with another sigh, her father began to talk, explaining the situation to them. "Diplomatic discussion with Osea is getting shaky again. This recent _Alicorn_ business has them all set on edge. They've got several soldiers in critical condition...soldiers that they claim were defenseless against the attack, and they're doubtful that the submarine wasn't under our command."

Parrish was suddenly more interested, his eyes lighting up at the mention of their recent addition to their battle doctrine. "Really? Does this mean that we may have some challenges in convincing them to sit down for peace talks? I know we've been negotiating with them for some time, but obviously no one is ready to accept defeat." Although he seemed to be feigning any concern for the status of peace talks, Rosa knew that he was probably more than happy that the conservative's ultimate goal of sitting down with Osean officials for such a talk was going to be that much farther out of their reach. He'd been trying to talk her father out of it ever since she'd mentioned peace in her speech, and he'd been succeeding for the most part. That gave Labarthe's conservatives a lot of work, not that Parrish cared too much.

"I don't know. If I can convince them that the _Alicorn_ really did mutiny, then hopefully we shouldn't have an issue," Rosa's father replied.

"You mean they actually believe that we'd order our own men to do such a thing?" Rosa asked, eyes widening. Surely Osea didn't think that they were heartless enough to attack someone or something that was unable to defend itself? A fleet not properly equipped to attack the _Alicorn_, which she'd heard was a very powerful submarine, shouldn't have been in the situation in the first place. "They must think that we're cowards or something to attack in such a way. Hopefully we can convince them otherwise, or this war could drag on forever..."

"Pfft! Well, best of luck trying to convince Osea that they're wrong," Parrish said, barely looking at her when he spoke. He had other plans. "You're never going to convince them that the Alicorn and her crew are acting without any direction from us, I think that now would be a good time to regroup and plan an attack. They might try and pursue the submarine, in case it truly is under our command, and destroy it to leave us without the upper hand. While they're focused on that, we should plan an attack and strike them while they're distracted. We could slow down any chances of them reaching our capital and retaliate for the destruction of the IRBMs we launched."

Rosa looked at him, holding back an appalled gasp. "Surely you don't really think that's a good plan, General? With all due respect, sir, it would be foolish to attack Osea like that. A cheap shot, don't you think? Much like the one they're already convinced that we're responsible?" She stood up from her seat, Leo scrambling up as she did. Parrish opened his mouth to interject, but to her surprise, her father motioned for him to stay silent and Parrish reluctantly held his tongue, allowing Rosa to continue. "They're already upset and believe that the Alicorn is under our command. They didn't hear Captain Torres disobey orders like we did. If we hit them now, instead of help them in some way take on a possible common enemy, then they'll take that as a confirmation of their suspicions. That will set back any negotiations at least a few months. They'll no longer trust us and believe that we want peace, and the war may continue much longer than necessary."

"If we don't seize the opportunity now then Osea will find a way to crush us. Our country will face another devastating defeat and who knows how many innocent lives will be taken in the process!" Parrish raised his voice as he spoke, but Rosa was learning ever so slowly to stand her ground. It was time she stopped running from a fight. In spite of his attempt to talk down to her, she didn't react. She didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to her. Parrish went on with his rant, looking to the King as he said, "You're going to let an emotional girl make an important military decision for you? Her intentions may be good, but she has no idea how a war is fought. We have to make a statement to Osea, otherwise we'll be letting them walk all over us when the time for negotiations finally comes! Your daughter has been brainwashed by Labarthe and tricked into believing that peace comes without a price. That it's as simple as shaking hands. Are you forgetting Osea's initial attacks on our capital?"

"I haven't forgotten." Rosa kept her voice steady. She looked down at her feet, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "The school I used to attend as a girl was destroyed. People that I cared for, mentors and teachers that I knew, were killed in the attack. Who knows whether they were truly aiming for civilians when they attacked...it's more likely it was an accident, but still..." She looked back up at Parrish, hoping there was more determination in her voice. "If we never set that aside and move on from the past then we'll forever be blinded into continuing down a road of war and many more lives will be pointlessly taken. And for what? An attempt to restore our country to what it used to be? To make a big show of force like we used to do? Our country should strive to move forward, not backwards. Our goal should be in the future, not the past."

Parrish scoffed at her words. "Just as I've said. You're too naive for the responsibility we've given you, Princess. You have no idea what goes on in a war, and how severe these losses are. If we don't at least try and cripple them now then we'll regret it later. Your home will be attacked. They're going to come after our leaders. Me, and your parents. You. Do you want that? Do you want to know that you're responsible for any casualties taken? To bear the responsibility for the loss of those you care about? We are looking to the future. It's the conservatives that are stuck in the past." There was something of a haunted look on his face, but he quickly hid it. "Osea violated our sovereignty, mocked us with the construction of that hideous 'Lighthouse'. If we let this slide and don't tell them that we still have a powerful voice, then it won't be long before they take over the entire continent. It's about respecting our history and not making the same mistakes our ancestors and previous leaders did. Osea must be stopped, no matter the cost."

"That's nothing more than hatred, and in the end we're not accomplishing anything. We have to learn from history and work with what we're given, not make ourselves monsters just to tell the world that we aren't like we used to be. You're trying to erase and rewrite history, which means you _are_ too wrapped up in the past. How does that make you any different then Labarthe and the conservatives?" Rosa asked him, finding it increasingly harder to keep her cool. "You're going to turn Erusea into a country of villains and cowards and leave the responsibility of picking up the pieces to my father and I. You've been blinded by your own hatred of Osea. I'm beginning to doubt that you truly want what's best for your country."

Before the argument could get any further out of hand, Rosa's father rose from his seat. "Alright, that's enough of that. François, I think that it would be best if you left for the night. I'll think this over and discuss my decision with you next weekend. For now, go home and take a break from work."

He looked as though he wanted to argue, but he chose to give a respectful nod and head for the door. "Yes, Your Majesty. I'll speak with you later. Good evening, sir." Parrish glanced at Rosa with a blank expression before he exited the room. "Enjoy your evening, Princess. And for once, consider what I've been telling you and stop thinking so much like Labarthe. You'll be amazed by what an open mind can accomplish."

"Good night, Parrish," Rosa's father said, almost exasperated, as he guided Parrish out of the room with a hand on his shoulder. Rosa watched as Parrish was unknowingly forced out of the room, the door promptly shut behind him. Her father paused, keeping his hand on the brass doorknob and his back turned to her. With a sigh, he turned around to face her from across the room, and she found herself afraid to make eye contact with him. It wasn't anger that was in his eyes, but some mix of disappointment and defeat. "You've put me in a difficult position, Rosa. Your goals for our country are admirable, but Parrish has a point as well. He may be very aggressive, but he fought during the first Continental War and he understands not only how they must be fought but how the politics must be handled as well."

"Are you saying that you agree with him? That what I'm proposing is impossible?" Rosa asked him, finding herself upset that her own father didn't even trust her abilities. Why would he let her speak if he wasn't going to take what she said into consideration? She kept a straight face. "Maybe to some extent Osea is wrong. It's not as if I'm asking that we surrender and just roll over and take their actions. They'll face consequences, just like others have done in the past. Some of the action taken was unjustified, and they'll answer to that. But it isn't as though we haven't taken unjustified, unnecessary action before. If we continue like this, we're going to exhaust Osea's forces as well as our own and we'll be faced with desperation. Both sides are going to want the war to end, and what measures will we take to achieve that when the time comes?"

Rosa's father straightened up and suddenly became stern with her. "Whatever it takes. Whatever is necessary to show that our country will stand up for ourselves and our beliefs. I'll do whatever I can to ensure an Erusean victory. Like Parrish, I don't intend to let my country fall to the mercy of another. Especially not Osea. I'm already rushing drone production as is. Our victory is secure, and we'll discuss peace once Osea has learned their lesson and we can be sure that we won't have any more problems from them."

She paused, taking in the words for a moment. It didn't sound like her father. Perhaps they'd both changed since the war, and this was the first time that she noticed how eager for a fight he was. It felt like a rock was stuck in her throat as she stood there, imagining how much worse the war could get. Shouldn't they want to prevent that? In any way? Perhaps it was too early to consider peace, but it would save more lives in the long run. Was she naive or was her father just convinced that this was the right way. With a shaky breath and her own creeping feeling of disappointment, Rosa at last responded. "I see...I guess you've already made up your mind, then."

"Rosa, it's not that I want the war to continue, it's just that Erusea has spent too long in the shadows. Too many people believe that it would be easy to defeat us, and that we're an easy, vulnerable target thanks to our defeat in the last war," her father explained with a sigh. "Our country will constantly be under threat. Do you want to live in fear? Do you want to be ruler of a country that's terrified and thinks that its leaders won't take appropriate action?"

"No, of course I don't!" Rosa answered. "But—"

"Then leave everything to us, and stop trying to debate when there's no reason for it." He tried for a reassuring smile, but Rosa couldn't return it. It wouldn't be genuine, and she was tired of keeping up appearances for the sake of everyone else. When she didn't react to it, he stepped away from the door. "I'm sorry. But there's a time and a place. You have to earn your respect and right to make decisions like this. That's just the way things are."

_Maybe things should change_. Rosa wanted to reply with that, but she knew it would be childish to continue the fight for any longer. Avoiding so much as a glance her father's way, she began a brisk walk to the door, straightening her posture to appear more confident than she actually felt. Her tone was still soft as she spoke. "I'm going to bed...come along, Leo." Her dog leapt up from his stiff sitting position and bounded after her with an excited bark at the mention of his name. He fell into step beside her, trotting along as she left the room. The door shut behind her, and she heard her father's footsteps as he took a seat once more. This hadn't been a good night, and the decision probably was difficult for him, but it didn't excuse anything.

She stood there for a moment, back against the door with her fist clenched. Her eyes started to water and she felt like collapsing to the floor and crying right there, feeling as though her own father had somehow betrayed her. It was all so confusing, and she felt like she was the object in a harsh game of tug of war. She was so overwhelmed by her own emotions and thoughts that she didn't notice that Henri was standing a couple of feet away, remaining in the same position he'd been in since the 'meeting' started. The concern in his voice was obvious. "Your Highness? Are you alright?"

Startled, Rosa looked over at him, trying to find the words to answer him. After struggling for a few minutes, she finally got her thoughts together and was able to answer him. It was a lie, and he probably knew that, but it was an answer nonetheless. "Yes, Henri, I'm fine..." Forcing herself to move from the spot, she headed towards the stairs. Over her shoulder, she called to Henri, "Goodnight." But Rosa didn't wait for an answer from him, and left him in a rather confused silence. She didn't look back to see the look on his face, but she had a feeling that he watched her as she left. If she confided in him, then he'd try to fix the problem or be unable to help, so it was best not to let him know. Besides, he had his job to worry about.

When she finally reached her bedroom, she took a seat on her bed, kicking off her shoes and reaching for the TV remote. Pressing the on button, it was no surprise when ENN appeared on the screen. She was going to change the channel, fed up with hearing about nothing but the war, but footage of a fighter jet fighting over Stonehenge caught her attention and something told her to stay on it. Turning the sound on after having it set to mute, she adjusted the volume and kept her eyes on the screen. The video showed a fighter jet taking on the Arsenal Bird and its drones over Stonehenge before it cut to footage captured during a battle over Artiglio. It was all the same plane, with half a red wing and three scratches on its tail. Three Strikes.

There wasn't any commentary, just footage of this plane with a headline moving across the screen. '_Osean forces rally behind 'Three Strikes', believing this pilot to be a rising symbol of hope. Erusean soldiers believe Three Strikes to be an ill omen; a harbinger of destruction and chaos. Allied soldiers fight to keep up morale and their resolve to fight._' It continued to scroll by before the text changed to mention the _Alicorn_ submarine's mutiny. But Rosa continued watching footage of this Three Strikes until it cut to an interview with an Erusean pilot from a nearby air base, apparently wanting to hear firsthand what it was like to fight against Osea and what their plans for moving forward was.

Leo had already curled up beside her and gone back to sleep. She turned around, giving a tired smile and reaching out to pet him. Although he probably didn't understand her, she began to think aloud, almost wishing her dog could offer some advice. "A symbol of hope is just what we need...perhaps this Three Strikes is what everyone has been waiting for. Someone to turn the war in their favor and finally bring it to an end." Rosa sighed, glancing towards the TV to see if they mentioned the pilot again. "I want to be that for Erusea, but it feels as though everyone is conspiring against me. I wonder if this Three Strikes is as fed up with the war as I am...there has to be a way to end it. I want Erusea to have a strong victory, but not because we fight like cowards and strike when their back is turned. Why isn't there an easy way to do any of this?"

Rosa looked at Leo for an answer, but he didn't make any indication that he heard her. She chuckled, giving him a firm pat on the side. "We'll get there eventually...won't we, buddy?"

* * *

**Erusean Air Base, Near Expo City.**  
_**September 9th, 2019.**_  
**1200hrs.**

Scream sat on top of one of the wings of her plane in spite of her brother's warnings not to. It was her plane, so in her mind she could do whatever she wanted. It wasn't as if her brother was in charge, either. She was the oldest, albeit only by a few minutes at most, and she wasn't about to be bossed around on the ground as well as in the air. It bothered her sometimes that Rage was so by the book and all about rules even though none of the rules that kept others trapped should have applied to them. He was one big walking contradiction, and most of the time he seemed to live by 'do as I say, not as I do' whenever it came to Scream. It got on her nerves a lot of times, not that she would tell him about it.

Beside her were copies of the files on the former pilots of the Spare Squadron, now members of the great LRSSG. Scream couldn't stand Osea and how pompous they could be sometimes, especially when it came to their air force. The LRSSG wasn't as great as everyone said, and it seemed as though their flight leaders carried them. The others were along for the ride. Nevertheless, McKinsey had been kind enough to provide them with all the information they could possibly need to take down Three Strikes and her wingmen. It was almost ironic, in Scream's eyes. Here they were, ex-convicts themselves, the complete opposite of another group of ex-cons.

It wasn't as if she and Rage didn't try to live up to the expectations everyone set for them. They just fell short, seemingly through no fault but their own. Three Strikes and two of her wingmen, Count and Tabloid, had barely gotten out of Zapland alive and they were taken in by Osea and given a proper chance to redeem themselves. They were heroes. Scream and Rage, on the other hand, had barely gotten out of Tyler Island alive and were Osea's rejects. They were now the bad guys. Rage had commented on it when they'd first been given the job, after the brigadier general first met with them. He said that killing Three Strikes wouldn't make them popular with Osea and the country's military, to which Rage had said that if Three Strikes was the 'hero' and they were the 'villains' then that was fine with him.

Perhaps the funniest part of it all was that Three Strikes shared Belkan heritage just like them. Their father had been a Belkan soldier. A mercenary, just like they were. And just like Three Strikes' father was. True, she herself wasn't Belkan. Truth be told, neither were Scream and her brother. Elke and Otto van Dalsen were Osean by birth and technically considered Belkan by blood. Scream and Rage on the other hand belonged to no country. They weren't puppets, unlike Three Strikes. Perhaps that was where their biggest differences were. Whereas Scream and Rage had no need to worry about any loyalty but to each other, Three Strikes was Osea's dog. She had to answer to them, and her loyalty was to them. And boy would it be fun to screw Osea _and_ Three Strikes over.

"Scream! Hey, Scream, you in here?" The sound of her brother's voice brought her attention to the hangar entrance. Rage walked in, taking a look around for her before he noticed her perched on her plane's wing. With a frown, he walked over with a scowl on his face and an exasperated look in his eyes. Scream could already tell what he was upset about and gave an innocent smile, waving to him as she swung her legs back and forth in the air, bouncing them off the edge of the wing. He could have very easily reached up and grabbed her ankle to pull her down, but he was far past the age where he thought it was funny to pull and shove her off of high places. "So, I tell you not to do something, and you do it just to aggravate me."

"No, I did it because I can." She smirked at him, leaning back and using her arm to support her back. Shrugging, she flicked through one of the files, bored after studying them over and over again per Rage's insistence that they 'learn their enemy'. The least he could do is let her have _some_ fun. "Besides, it's not like it hurts anything. I know these things were built sturdier than that, especially after _we_ got our hands on 'em. Literally no need to worry so much."

"What have I told you about getting too confident?" Rage asked her, and it sounded like he was scolding a child with the way he was talking. He always considered her the immature one, just because she didn't have a stick up her ass all the time and knew how to have fun. Why he insisted they act like regular soldiers was a mystery to Scream. They lost their chance to be regular soldiers after Osea thought it would be amusing to lock them up and send them on suicide missions. Rage should have learned to let loose by now. She didn't answer his question, so he took it as an invitation to lecture her again. "The enemy can and will use that to their advantage. Over confidence is a way to earn yourself a one way ticket to hell."

"Well, in that case it sounds like Three Strikes is going down. McKinsey says that she and her wingmen are way too cocky...especially this guy." Scream reached over and placed the file on O'Connor in her lap. His TAC name was Count, and of the targets he seemed like he'd be the easiest to take out. She opened it up, going through the notes that McKinsey had made. "Says here that he thinks he's some kinda bigshot. But the best part is, every time things get tough, he tucks his tail and runs in the other direction. A real wuss. I'd love to see how he holds up against us...it's a shame. Y'know, he's kinda cute. Sounds like he'd be my kinda guy, too. Three Strikes ain't so bad, either."

Rage rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you can think that if you want. Whether you find them attractive or not doesn't change the fact that we're going to kill them. Wouldn't mind getting my hands on Three Strikes myself, but we've got a job to do. Besides, taking down those Osean dogs is a lot more rewarding." He looked over at his own plane with a sigh. "This is really going to be something. If we take down an ace like this then there's no telling how rich we could be. People will finally know our names and we'll be able to get better, more high profile jobs. Heh. Can you imagine it? No one's going to think we're a bunch of jokes anymore. We might be able to get better planes, too."

"If you say so. I just want an even playing field. When we face them again, I've got dibs on her wingman. That guy was annoying as hell..." Scream said. She may have found him good looking to some extent, but it didn't change the fact that he'd kept them from succeeding in killing Three Strikes the first time. Next time they saw him, she fully intended to follow through on her threat. This 'Trigger' was going to watch her wingman die, and Scream would happily be the one to kill him. Then they'd have no trouble going for the real prize. Scream could picture it now. It would be a work of art compared to other mercenary work. Quick and very, _very_ painful. "Ha! I'm gonna have fun with this one..."

Their conversation was cut short when McKinsey entered, having overheard the last part. It was clear that something had pissed him off and Scream could already tell that she wasn't going to like whatever it was that he had to say. "I'm afraid that your 'fun' or whatever is going to have to wait a little while longer," he said as he approached, stopping beside Rage.

The siblings exchanged a look with one another before turning back to McKinsey. "Is there any reason why? I thought we were heading out on Three Strikes' next sortie to intercept them. Isn't that what you wanted? And what you _paid us for?_" Rage asked, prickling with annoyance. The tone he used was familiar to Scream, having heard it before with previous, less important employers. He always used it when someone wanted to either terminate their contract last minute or if someone tried to short them when it came to their payment. He was a decent businessman given the situation, but he didn't like when things didn't work out the way they were supposed to.

McKinsey smirked, crossing his arms. He seemed unbothered by Rage's attempt at intimidating him. "I ran a prison and dealt with creeps like you every day. You think that pathetic speech is going to faze me? Don't forget that you came from the same prison background that they did. You may be free now, but I wouldn't test my patience. I could kill you without ever getting my hands dirty." Rage's fist clenched, but he took a step back and glanced at Scream. She scowled, wanting nothing more than to kick McKinsey square in the jaw at that moment, but she held back. If she killed him then they wouldn't get much out of it. McKinsey chuckled, satisfied by their apparent 'submission' to him. "Now that's what I like to see. Smart kids that know what's good for them. I bet I don't have to worry about you anymore, huh?"

"Zip it, old man," Scream said with a scoff, earning a stone cold glare from the colonel. She ignored it, not at all caring how angry she made him. "You escaped from custody of the MPs. You're no better than the rest of us and you know it." Pushing herself closer to the edge of the wing, she finally pushed herself off, landing on the ground with a loud click as her boots made contact with the concrete. Barely managing to stick the landing, and nearly slipping, she pulled herself up to stand beside her brother. Ignoring the aching that ran up from her ankle, she brushed her hair out of her eyes and went on as if nothing had happened. "Now, why don't you tell us why we aren't flying?"

"You're on standby so that we can see how the next operation turns out. Clemens' orders." McKinsey wasn't too upset by the news, obviously, but Rage and Scream both shared the same thought. That order was bullshit. If they weren't sure, then they wouldn't have hired them in the first place. Rage opened his mouth to protest, but McKinsey put on a wicked grin and continued before Rage could say anything. "That's the official order, anyways. Unofficially and as your secondary employer or whatever you want to call it, I say that when the time is right during the next mission, you go out there and you do whatever you can to make sure that Three Strikes and whoever else from the LRSSG is there never fly again. Put an untimely end to their careers. This will also give us a new ally. Once Clemens is outed as a traitor, he'll have no choice but to go on the run and come down to visit the rest of us 'lowlifes'. What do you think?"

They considered the order. The second one, rather, since that was of more importance to them. And they actually would benefit from it. Rage looked to Scream, silently asking her what her opinion on it was. She was all for it. Disobeying orders? Stripping Osea of another, somewhat powerful authority figure? Taking out four aircraft at least, Three Strikes and that wuss probably among them? It sounded like a dream come true. The only response that she gave Rage and the only response that he needed was a mile wide grin and a soft chuckle. Rage looked back at McKinsey, pretending to think it over some more. He looked him up and down and then smiled, holding out his hand. "Alright then, McKinsey. You've got yourself a deal. On one condition: you pay us extra. At least double the last offer."

McKinsey sighed, then reluctantly shook Rage's hand. "Fine, you've got yourself a deal, kid. You'll have your money tonight. So long as you don't disappoint me. Remember, it's only thanks to me that you even got this far."

"Right..." Rage frowned, shoving his hands into his pockets once their handshake was over. "There's no need to worry. We aren't going to fail this time."

"You better not." McKinsey turned around and began to leave, stopping only briefly to add to them, "I'll be sure to let you know if anything changes. In the meantime, I'd get ready. You're going to be going out tomorrow."

After that, he continued on his way. Scream waited impatiently for him to leave before she said anything, noticing some raw determination in her brother's eyes. He had his back to her, having shifted his position so that he could clearly view his Berkut from where he was. "What's with the look, Rage?" she asked him, almost with an edge to her voice. She didn't want him to change up their plan without asking her first, and if he did ever show determination when they were on the ground then it usually meant that he was working out a plan. Scream didn't want to be left in the dark. "What are you thinking about?"

He glanced over his shoulder and then shrugged, focusing on his plane once more. "Nothing. I'm just trying to figure out what our next move after this is going to be. Once Three Strikes is dead, we're going to have people lining up to hire us. Take out enough of Osea and Erusea's aces in a little back and forth game and this stupid war would be over real fast." Rage paused, running a hand through his hair. He chuckled, amused by something that Scream couldn't understand. Perhaps it was just his own thoughts. He kept a smile on his face, an almost content look in his eyes. "We're going to show McKinsey that he doesn't own us, too. After tomorrow, there won't be any question about who's in charge."

Scream took a moment, then finally grinned again. "We really _are_ gonna have fun with this one, aren't we?"

"As if we'd have it any other way."

* * *

**Scofields Plateau, Usea.**  
**2001hrs.**

_"You don't have to go. There's plenty you could do elsewhere, without putting yourself in danger."_

_"The same goes for you, and yet you're still fighting. I'm just doing what you did and going where I'm needed."_

Genette recalled the conversation he'd had with Blaze, Grimm, and Clown shortly before he'd left Fort Grays the day before. They'd tried one last time to convince him to stay, but hadn't had any luck in convincing him otherwise. Besides, the unit he was going to be with for a while had already agreed to take him along with them and made adjustments accordingly. Grimm's older brother was in charge, and was friendly enough and didn't waste much time with explaining things that Genette already knew. They were all waiting to move in on Anchorhead the next day by helicopter. Their goal was to arrive around the time that the LRSSG was going to be there, hoping to provide some help with any ground targets.

This area had been taken by Osea in one of the initial operations during the war, and they commandeered what was left of the Erusean air base that was there after clearing up the wreckage from downed aircraft that the IUN had shot down. It wasn't difficult work, and the base was mostly in good condition aside from a few destroyed buildings. As Genette stood outside of HQ, he looked up at the sky where stars were starting to become visible. The only sign of daylight was on the horizon, where a thin, pale orange line still remained. The rest of the sky faded into dark blue and without any urban glow, the sky had a blanket of stars on display for all to see.

He wondered how the mission that Nagase was on was going, and it was the first time in a while that he spared a thought for her. Everything had been so busy lately he hadn't really considered what things were like up there. Being a deep space mission, there was limited contact with the spaceship, and very little information had been released about the reason behind the mission. Genette only knew because Nagase had told him and the others, and she also had swore him to secrecy, reminding him that if it got out to the public and out of their circle of friends then it could cause widespread panic. The space elevator was one of the only ways that Genette knew of for them to return by safely, and he could understand why Blaze was so determined to keep it from being destroyed.

But Genette couldn't worry about that. He had a war to cover, and he had to search for the inspiration and energy to document everything. Not to mention, he'd be following the Osean Army into a battle tomorrow. Maybe not necessarily participating, and he'd be at a safe distance, but he was going to be close by at the very least. He couldn't afford the distraction. Any distractions. Everyone that he knew was more than capable of taking care of themselves, and there wasn't any need to waste time worrying when there wasn't a good reason for it. The day that somebody could shoot down the Razgriz in a real fight was the day that he'd worry, but until then, all of them were more than capable of surviving anything a war threw at them.

"You know, you really should get some rest. We've got an early start tomorrow." Genette turned around to see Grimm's brother, Jacob, standing a few feet away. It was easy to tell his relation to his younger brother. He was taller and more broadly built, and his eyes were blue rather than green, but they both had the same reddish-brown hair and barely noticeable freckles. Another thing he had in common with his younger brother was that he was surprisingly soft spoken given the career and role with his unit that he had. Both brothers were members of serious, fierce units, Jacob being in command of his, and yet they were the two of the most easygoing men that Genette had ever met. Jacob took a few steps forward, looking up at the sky as well. "I know it's not too late, but everyone needs to be at the top of their game. I can't afford to lose anyone tomorrow, and I plan to take as few risks as possible."

"You won't have to worry about me," Genette answered with a chuckle. "I've been in stickier situations. Hell, I almost faked my own death. If it hadn't been for Harling then I'd probably be in some house in the middle of nowhere right now, not getting in the middle of the action..."

"Well, take look at Hans and Kathryn," Jacob said with a smile. "They're supposed to be dead and they live in a house in the middle of nowhere. Yet sure enough, here they are, getting themselves involved in something like this." He sighed and shrugged, looking down at his feet and kicking at the ground. "I told them they should keep a low profile, but that was out of the question once they heard about Harling. Leave it to them to do the exact opposite of what you tell them. But, what do I know? We're probably going to be heading into hell before long...I want to be sure that you're ready for this, by the way. Be sure that you know there's little chance that you're going to be able to turn back. You'd have been safer staying at Fort Grays. I don't need a civilian's blood on my hands."

Genette glanced at him, trying not to let his nervousness show. "Yeah, I'll be ready. Like I said, there's no need to worry. I've been through worse. The first dogfight of the last war, an air raid after that, nearly getting shot in the head, and managing to get off the _Kestrel_ without any incident, too."

"If you're sure. I just want to make sure that I won't have to babysit you too much. I'm taking a chance by letting you come along, so whatever you do, just stay alive, alright?" Jacob said. As he turned away to leave, he added, "I'm not sure how I'd tell my brother that I let one of his best friends die."

While the concern was understandable, Genette just couldn't find himself a little bothered by it. Sure, Jacob was just looking out for him, and it was true, he probably didn't want to tell his brother and sister-in-law that one of their closest friends had been killed, but he didn't appreciate being treated like some helpless child. He watched Jacob leave, then turned back to look at the sky once he was gone. Closing his eyes, he shivered and took in the scent of a chilly breeze as it hit him right in the face. It passed and he opened his eyes again, searching for the brightest star. He stared at it for a moment, returning to his previous thoughts. "I wish you could hear me, Nagase. I wish there was some way I could help protect the elevator so you could come home...but we're just going to have to trust in Three Strikes. And Blaze, too..." he spoke softly, then sighed, finding it kind of silly to be talking to no one. And to be talking like Nagase was dead, too. She was still alive. "We could use some luck, tomorrow. I'm going to have to stay safe...I hope you're safe too, wherever you are right now."

Deciding it was time to go inside and get some rest like Jacob had advised, Genette took in the sights for a moment longer before adjusting his vest and turning away, heading towards his assigned room. Hope was something that they all needed right now, and he had to keep a brave face. The world needed the truth on the war, after all, and he had vowed to deliver it. He wasn't going to die or get hurt. Not if he could help it. He may not have been some great hero, but he knew people still cared about him. He wasn't about to let them down. Here goes nothing...

* * *

**Oured, Osea.**  
_**September 10th, 2019.**_  
**0831hrs.**

David North leaned back in his seat, looking between the many windows he had open on his computer. All of them were related to the _Alicorn_ and the recent operations that had gone on. He glanced over to the other side of his desk where his chess board was set up, in the middle of a game. Playing a game of chess against yourself wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do, but he needed some way to pass the time, and he occasionally used the board as an example of whatever he was working on. In this sense, it was used as a reference for the LRSSG against the _Alicorn_. More specifically, Three Strikes against Matias Torres. He sighed, spinning his chair around to face the board, looking over what the next move could be.

Reaching forward, he picked up the piece he thought best represented Three Strikes, and examined it in his hands. He was in a tough spot with this entire thing, wanting to believe that Trigger was as good and capable as he'd heard, while also having to think of things realistically. He set the piece back down where it was and spun back towards his computer, trying to wrack his brain for any possibility that the LRSSG could win, also trying to figure out what Torres was planning with the sub. The music he had playing in the background was supposed to help with focus, but it wasn't doing its job. He was almost disappointed, considering how much he enjoyed the music. But it wasn't helping with his work

Opening another window, he looked over the list of names of the crewmen that had left the Alicorn after their return from the bottom of the ocean. He couldn't help but feel as if something was wrong with Brigadier General Clemens and this 'source' that he had. They were being set up, without a doubt, either knowingly or entirely by accident. The way that Clemens was behaving, constantly trying to shut him down, and the way he'd been behaving towards the captain and her wingmen was sending up some red flags. In David's opinion, that was definite reason for suspicion. He leaned back in his chair again, resting his head against his arms as he went over the list.

His computer chimed suddenly, bringing his attention towards his chat with his personal AI, Alex, waiting for whatever she had to say. It was likely that she was finally done with the task he'd given her. Sure enough, the voice she'd been programmed with finally sounded. "David. I've built a model of Captain Torres and Three Strikes, based on your hypothesis and mission parameters from the past. I ran a precision combat simulation..." An attachment appeared and David clicked it, opening a new window that displayed a chess board model that Alex had been given to make. It played as soon as it opened, showing a fast paced chess game, the pieces moving independently. It abruptly stopped, showing the Three Strikes model and the _Alicorn_ model coming to a halt directly in front of one another. Alex spoke again in her usual monotone. "But, it failed."

David let out a frustrated groan, feeling much less hopeful than he had before. "Bummer. Why didn't it work?"

"Reasons in 'sensuous' order are..." Alex began, bringing up his previous request to try and be more sensual in her analysis, which was difficult for a computer, but nonetheless her programming didn't allow her to disobey, only argue. "1. Your hypothesis is trash."

He blinked in surprise, staring at the chat with an eyebrow raised. "Uh..."

Alex went on. "2. The parameters you gave me are trash."

"Um. Did I do something to tick you off?" he asked her, mildly offended by her comments. Alex had always been temperamental, but usually she wasn't this harsh when it came to shooting down his ideas. Unless his request had gotten on whatever substitute that she had for nerves.

After a pause, Alex finally added her third and final reason, not answering his question. "Three: Captain Torres is a singularity."

"So the values diverge..." David furrowed his brow, accepting that possibility sooner than he would the others. A singularities movements were supposed to be unpredictable, which certainly fit Torres, and they determined the behavior and ultimate fate of those around them. While it fit Captain Torres, it also happened to fit Captain Foulke. Based on her flight data and personality info, she was unpredictable, which gave her an edge in a fight. Her style was aggressive, much like Torres' style and behavior. "But, what about this one. 4. _Three Strikes_ is a singularity."

If Alex could frown or roll her eyes, she probably would have. "That's outside the confidence interval. The possibility that it's 1, 2, or 3, is 99%."

That didn't sound right to him. He felt disappointment returning. "What?"

"Significance is high."

"Hmm." David couldn't believe that. It was either one or the other, but surely the chances of Trigger being the singularity were higher? Could they both be? He opened Alex's Analytics Cloud, a folder that stored all of the data she needed and had access to in order to properly analyze something. He then opened a folder he'd set aside specifically to store data on these recent operations. He went to the file that Trigger's superiors had sent to him to use, containing all of Trigger's data up to their last operation over Sierraplata. He dragged the file (titled _**Personal_DATA_Trigger**_) and dropped it into Alex's folder. It began to upload it all, surprisingly quickly for a file of that size. "Try this. This is all of Three Strikes' data stretching back to before she was assigned to the LRSSG."

He watched and waited for it to upload, checking to make sure that she had everything he needed, then checked the time. "Speaking of the LRSSG, they'll be expecting me for their briefing any minute now. Take a look at this and come up with another simulation if you can. Let me know the results when you're done," David ordered quickly. Alex didn't respond to him with words, instead making another chime sound to tell him that she understood. David smiled to himself. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a call to make. Have fun, Alex!"

* * *

Author's Note: _If I see the words 'three' and 'strikes' together in a sentence ever again, I'm going to cry...wait._

_Has it really been over a month since I last updated this? Sorry about that, guys. I would have done it sooner, but the last month or so has been crazy for me. Real life stuff got in the way, then every time I sat down to write it was like a wall went up and I wound up with writer's block that lasted for several days. But I'm back and have inspiration again, so hopefully the next few updates shouldn't take as long to get here. Again, I really apologize for taking so long. I hope the double update (and painfully long chapter...sorry) makes up for it!_

_The next chapter should cover Anchorhead Raid, so we're going to finally get some more action after this. For now, enjoy the filler/set-up chapters!_


	31. Domino Effect

Chapter Thirty: Domino Effect

|...|...|...|

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
_**September 10th, 2019.**_  
**0900hrs.**

|...|...|...|

"Did you get any sleep at all last night, Trigger?"

Naomi sat up and looked over at Count as she heard the question, staring at him for a moment to process what he'd said. Apparently she wasn't as good at hiding how tired she was around everyone else. She sat in the briefing room with everyone else, waiting for Clemens to finish speaking with Wiseman and Long Caster. Her father stood nearby, studying the map on the screen. Everyone else was discussing the _Alicorn_ and whether the new operation had anything to do with it, which was — unsurprisingly — a common subject within the last few days. Naomi was sick of talking about it, but since there were several theories and ongoing discussions involving it (whenever Clemens couldn't stop them, anyways), there wasn't any way that she could really avoid the topic. The ship had already managed to worm its way into her dreams, and now every time she closed her eyes she couldn't imagine anything other than what it was like to be at the bottom of the sea on that thing or how doomed they'd be if they got shot down by it.

For a moment, she just sat there looking at Count with wide eyes, trying to find the best way to respond. She didn't want to admit that any sleep she managed to get was restless. At the most she was only getting a few hours a night. If she admitted that, they'd all think that she wasn't fit to fly, but she was perfectly capable of flying and giving orders. All she needed was some coffee to give her a boost. The only problem was that she was waiting for the two cups she'd had at breakfast to finally kick in. Which meant that her mind wasn't working as fast as she would have liked at that moment. Count seemed to be waiting for her to answer, and since no one else was paying attention, then maybe she could at least try and answer him. "I...well, what makes you ask that?"

"You look terrible. Like, 'your first fight with Mr. X' terrible," Count said bluntly, but there seemed to be some concern there. Not that he would admit that he was concerned about anyone, least of all her. Nevertheless, he went on, his tone a little softer. He looked a bit more awkward and uncomfortable than usual. "Seriously, is there something bothering you? You've been kind of...off these last few days. Not to mention, you've been living off of coffee ever since. All signs kind of point to a lack of sleep."

Naomi was a bit bothered that he'd figured it out, frowning and looking away. "It's not like it's a big deal. Since when did you get so nosy, anyways?" She glanced at him, expecting a response. The only reaction she got was an annoyed huff and he looked away from her. Feeling bad for getting a little snappy with him, she sighed and turned to face him. He was back to scowling, but he seemed curious as she readied herself to answer him. "This whole _Alicorn_ thing just has me worried, that's all. And whatever the deal is with Clemens. So...I haven't been getting the best sleep ever. Once we make it to Farbanti and things slow down then I'll be able to catch a break and rest properly. We just have to get the _Alicorn_ out of the way, right?"

Count chuckled. "You make it sound easier than it actually is. We're probably going to have to fight that thing before long. I mean, depending on whether its defenses are crippled, then it probably wouldn't be too hard, but...y'know. Gotta be realistic."

"That doesn't sound like you," Naomi said with a smirk. "Usually you're cocky enough to think you can do anything, regardless of the odds."

"Now _that_ sounds more like _you_ than me." Count mirrored her own expression, if not more smug looking than she was as he made eye contact. "After all, you're the one that thinks she can fly through tunnels all the time, not me."

Unable to keep up the eye contact, Naomi's smirk turned into a grin and she stifled a laugh, looking away. Count broke as well. At least they got a laugh in the end, even if there wasn't much of a good reason for it. Something about the conversation and the brief staredown was funny to her. Unfortunately, their conversation wasn't allowed to continue and all talking ceased as Clemens cleared his throat. The sound drew everyone's attention towards the brigadier general, and he gave them all disapproving looks. It seemed he had some idea of what everyone else had been talking about, and he also seemed upset that they were actually enjoying their conversation.

Once everyone had stopped talking, he looked around at them. "Alright, the fun's over. I'd appreciate it if everyone would at least _try_ and take this situation seriously," Clemens said. They glanced towards Wiseman as if to silently ask if he was going to let Clemens get away with getting onto them over something so ridiculous, but Wiseman just shook his head with a tired look on his face. Luckily for them, Clemens didn't catch the look, and he continued. He looked towards the screen. "Analyst North, is everything working on your end?"

There was a moment of silence before David's face appeared in a smaller window and he gave them a thumbs up. "_Everything's working great, sir, just like last time. We're connected and ready to go._"

Clemens gave a stiff nod. "Perfect. Let's get started." As the map centered on the Usean continent, Long Caster moved it to an area near the Arsenal Bird's airspace, bringing the focus to a small area near the space elevator. Clemens, likely having rehearsed the briefing, jumped right into it with no warning other than the shift in focus. "The Erusean military is gathering its remaining naval forces at Anchorhead Bay. Apparently, they're even bringing in ships from the mothball fleet. Considering the measures they're taking, we have reasons to believe that this is probably to reinforce their naval power in preparation for the showdown in Farbanti. We've even received intel that the _Alicorn_ will also be joining them."

Several images appeared, showing pictures of the bay, ships from Erusea's fleet, and of the submarine _Alicorn_. Although the explanation seemed to fit, David didn't look convinced and he spoke up after staying quiet. "_Intel from where, sir? Which source are you getting all of this from, Brigadier General?_" Naomi was surprised by how much David sounded like he was challenging Clemens. But he continued with a less confrontational tone, sounding more reasonable than he had initially. "_There's a very high possibility that the _Alicorn's_ former crew have been tasked with sabotage, and they could very well be feeding our military false information._"

Everyone exchanged a look with one another, and Naomi noticed that both Húxiān and Bandog were watching Clemens reaction closely. Naomi did too, noticing that David's comment seemed to hit a nerve. Clemens gritted his teeth, turning to face the screen. David raised an eyebrow as Clemens did so, obviously finding the reaction odd himself. "Your job is to analyze the enemy's _weaponry_, not stalk former members of their crew. Your comment and question are irrelevant to the briefing," he snapped, but David maintained his poker face as Clemens scolded him. "From now on, you will speak only when authorized." He turned back around to face everyone else, and David gave no reply. Clemens furrowed his brow and turned his head slightly to view David out of the corner of his eye. "...I don't hear a response."

"_May I be authorized to speak first, sir?_" David asked, almost snidely.

Naomi and the others all chuckled at this, which clearly got on Clemens nerves. David only smiled as Clemens gave a growl. "When we're done, I'll be talking to your superiors. As for the rest of you—" he gave everyone that had laughed at the comment a dirty look, "—here's your mission. The LRSSG is to raid Anchorhead." The screen magnified and created a digital, 3D recreation of the area, highlighting clusters of Erusean forces and showing the smaller groups that were the Osean forces. Naomi could already see that they were going to be outnumbered yet again. Clemens quickly got to the point. "Carry out air strikes on Anchor Bay to the north and Dakiouk Bay to the south, inflicting as much damage as possible. If we can strip the port of its naval functions, we can also prevent the submarine from joining forces."

It was Wiseman's turn to step in. "The area around Anchorhead is Erusean territory. To delay hostile detection, you're going to sortie in small numbers and make your way in at super low altitudes."

"A small sortie, huh?" Tabloid asked, sounding almost as if he was hoping he would be going along this time as well. "So, who's going?"

"Count, Lanza, Húxiān, and Trigger. Only four aircraft from Strider Squadron will be deployed. I'm afraid that you'll be sitting this one out, Tabloid," Wiseman replied, but he gave a friendly smile as soon as he picked up on Tabloid's disappointment.

"Whoah! I'm going this time?" Lanza asked giddily, obviously raring to go. "Alright, I got this!"

"Lucky bastard..." Skald grumbled as Lanza looked at him with a smug smile. Rolling his eyes, Skald shoved Lanza's head away from him and his best friend grinned as he gave an exaggerated 'fall' to the side of his chair. Chuckling, Skald looked back to Wiseman. "So, only four aircraft...just like last time, right?"

"Looks like it," Naomi said. She was a bit worried, given the large amount of enemies. It also looked as though it would just be the four of them against a rather large fleet, with a very small Osean ground unit coming from the northwest. "I take it this time there won't be any help from another squadron? Just gonna be us?"

"Afraid so. We're catching them while most of them are still in dock, though, so chances are four is all we're going to need. Besides, I've seen the work you all can do when you're let loose." Wiseman's answer was reassuring. It was better that he trusted them with this operation on their own rather than holding them back out of fear they wouldn't do well. Naomi felt good knowing that he was finally okay with giving her some more freedom, and she had a feeling that Count was starting to enjoy being off of Wiseman's 'leash' as well. Wiseman went on with the briefing as the screen zoomed in on the four blue arrowheads that represented Strider Squadron. "To cover our lack of numbers and because of the large number of targets, we're giving you plenty of opportunities to resupply."

"He's right. Look here." Long Caster was the one to step in. The image zoomed out, displaying the entire area of operations again. Three blue lines appeared on the screen. One to the east, where they'd be approaching from, one to the north, and one to the south. All of them put good distance between the fighting and the return line itself, meaning they had a chance to outrun the fighting if they took any damage or didn't have the means to fight their way out. Long Caster nodded to the screen. "As you can see, we've set up multiple return lines. Make full use of them to resupply and change armaments."

Wiseman nodded. "Also note that the enemy will not be able to mount a defense immediately after detecting you. Use this window to destroy as many high threat targets as you can. That should, hopefully, make things much easier for you."

"It should also raise the survival rate," Clemens put in.

Count furrowed his brow. "Survival rate, huh? Well, isn't that interesting."

Clemens chose to ignore him. "The element of surprise and resupplying are the key. Beyond that, I just need a couple pilots who will stick to my orders. We don't need an ace to succeed." His eyes narrowed on Naomi, and she returned his look with a forced smile. Scowling, he finally took a look around at all of them. "You got anything to say?" No one answered, a few people shaking their heads in reply. The rest of them stayed quiet. Clemens nodded slowly. "Good."

"_Brigadier General—_" David began, but he was promptly cut off by Clemens.

"That is all."

As Clemens made a move to hang up on him, Wiseman raised a hand to stop him. To Naomi's surprise, Clemens actually backed down, however hesitant he was to do so. Wiseman looked to the screen. "David, go on."

David looked at Wiseman gratefully, then typed something into his computer before he began what he wanted to say. "_Let me share the career of Matias Torres, the captain of the _Alicorn_._" The ID photo of Torres that they had already seen showed up on screen, followed by a rather lengthy looking service record below it. The record was split into two sections, one being a list of what Naomi thought was his service on different ships, and then the second part of it contained a list of medals he'd earned during combat and punishments he'd received. She couldn't read any of the smaller text from where she was, so she had no idea what the list contained. David didn't elaborate, instead choosing to quiz them again. "_Does anyone know how his people hailed him?_"

"Hmph. A bit unfair to provide us with next to know hints, don't you think?" Skald asked him, sounding only mildly irritated by the question.

"He's got a point there," Naomi agreed, looking to David with a smirk on her face. "You could have at least given us some more material to work with. Time for research, maybe?"

David chuckled sheepishly. "_Fair enough. Sorry, you two._" Some more clacking from his keyboard was heard, and the focus of their own screen shifted to a different part of Usea, highlighting a harbor and showing an aerial photograph of it beside Torres' photo. It was a harbor that everyone knew of, thanks to history books and various articles. David went on. "'_The Hero of Comberth Harbor' is the answer. He was the captain of the battleship _Tanager_ at the time of the Continental War. It led Aegir Fleet, the invincible armada_." The service record vanished, and it was replaced by a list of ships that were in the fleet. Below that was a photo of two soldiers saluting what looked like a burning ship. "_But when the fleet was destroyed at Comberth Harbor, so was his ship._"

"Yet _he's_ the hero?" Húxiān asked, sounding doubtful. The look on her face said that she wasn't too impressed. "Something about that doesn't add up, quiz guy."

"_I was just about to get to that, Lieutenant,_" David chirped, not at all put off by her attitude. "_You see, he was able to bring most of his crew home with accurate damage control and precise evacuation orders._" A photo of the submarine now appeared on the screen once again. "_Then there's the accident with the _Alicorn_, where they took very few casualties and most of them survived to see their rescue. Many believe that if they stay with him, then they'll live_."

"A good luck charm, eh?" Count asked, elbowing Naomi with a playful smile. She rolled her eyes at him, but that didn't seem to deter him. He looked over at Tabloid with the same look. "I think we know a thing or two about that, don't we, Tabloid?"

"Hell yeah, we do!" Tabloid grinned, and a few of their group either chuckled or followed Naomi and rolled their eyes at this. Tabloid went serious again, though, and looked back to the screen. "I have one question about this Torres guy, though. Isn't it a little odd for him to go from serving aboard regular ships to commanding a submarine?"

"_Transfer from surface to underwater _is_ unusual,_" David said. "_However, considering his skill and reputation, along with the fact that the _Alicorn_ is no ordinary submarine, it all makes sense. But _this_ is the man that you'll likely be facing, should the _Alicorn_ make it to the port and surface somehow. A man known for beating all odds, if not in the most conventional way._"

"It'll be a difficult mission to carry out with only four aircraft," Wiseman said, crossing his arms. He examined the screen for a moment as it cut back to the display of the operation area. He had his back to them. "Still, I'd like to add one other thing to the mission conditions."

Count scoffed. "What, you wanna make it even harder?"

Wiseman turned around with a stone cold expression on his face. One that Naomi didn't like seeing, especially from a man as laid back as Wiseman. She'd seen it from him before, after she and Count had gotten themselves in trouble during Stonehenge. But now, it was slightly different and because of a different situation. He looked them over. "I want a 100% survival rate for the sortie. Any other number and the mission will be considered a failure! Dismissed."

"So, there's no pressure, right?" Naomi asked with a sigh as she stood up with everyone else. She stood up and they all followed her. Lanza, Húxiān, and Count were the first to go, and she noticed Lanza was practically jumping up and down with excitement. She smiled at this, noticing Skald's mock grouchiness at Lanza's behavior. Tabloid seemed a lot better about not being picked for the sortie, and Naomi would have felt bad if she requested that he go along in Lanza's place like she had done for the last mission. She figured that, especially with Clemens around, it might have been better to not argue with the squadron lineup for the time being. "Well, looks like everyone's ready to go and wreck some ships. You look excited, Lanza."

Lanza grinned. "You bet I am! Flying low and hitting them out of nowhere? Nothing else gets your heart pounding like that, I tell ya!"

Skald raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I can think of several things much better than _that_ and they do the trick just fine."

"Alright, knock it off, you two," Naomi said, chuckling as Lanza playfully punched Skald in the shoulder. Once they'd settled down, she started towards the door and Count, Lanza, and Húxiān were quick to follow her, Lanza trying to reign in his excitement. Naomi tried not to let it show that she was worried things were going to be difficult, like last time. Something about Wiseman's survival rate comment told her that things weren't going to be easy. She tried to push that aside as she reached the door, holding it open for her wingmen. "Let's go and get ready. I'm sure that Avril has a few things she'd like to say to us. Probably wants to threaten us to make sure we don't bring back more work for her to do."

Count hesitated as the other two continued out into the hall. He looked at her and seemed to be sharing many of her own concerns as he said, "We've said this before...we've been through much worse than this. But you don't think that Clemens could be trying to set us up, do you? Like this could be a death sentence?"

Naomi looked over at Wiseman, who was speaking with Jaeger, Long Caster, and her father. Count followed her gaze, then glanced her way, raising an eyebrow. She took a deep breath and shook her head. "No. Wiseman doesn't think it's a set up, otherwise he wouldn't have let us go. But he can tell something isn't right just like we can. He might have been trying to send us a message with that last condition."

"Really?" Count asked, sounding doubtful. "And what's that?"

She looked back at him. "Be careful and stay alert. Try and be prepared for anything. If something goes wrong then we need to be ready for it."

"Aren't we always?" Count asked, actually grinning. Naomi gave an exasperated laugh as she and Count stepped out of the doorway together, letting it close behind them. "Try not to worry, Trig. You said it yourself. Everything'll be fine."

* * *

**Anchorhead Bay, Erusea.**  
**1400hrs.**

They approached the bay from the east at as low an altitude as they could go, much to Naomi's dismay. The altitude restriction wasn't as bad as it could have been, and Naomi had managed to get away with flying a few kilometers higher than her wingmen were. Their planes had all been given some extra work by Avril and she told them that she hoped the durability had been increased. It was basically her code for 'I'm tired of you morons coming back with scratched paint and bullet holes' but it was still a nice gesture nonetheless. She'd also managed to do something to increase the firing range of their standard missiles and special weaponry. Naomi had a feeling that they'd be having a lot of fun with this today.

At last, the bay and their wide selection of targets were in visual range, and their HUDs were updated to show them. Not to mention how many clusters were showing up on their radars. "Geez, I can almost touch the water," Count said as they continued to fly closer and closer to the bay. "Can we go ahead and get started yet?"

Wiseman's voice came over the radio, sounding as if he was talking with a smile on his face. It even sounded like he chuckled a bit before he started speaking. "Now _that's_ the kind of enthusiasm I want to see from you more often, Count!" Naomi was pretty sure that Count was regretting his eagerness and the thought made her smile a bit. Wiseman didn't give Count time to respond, though, before he said, "Now, since you were so patient, I guess I can give you the go ahead. Altitude restriction lifted! Begin op!"

Relieved, Naomi lifted her nose and pulled up, no longer having to worry about her altitude. The others followed her without any hesitation. Long Caster's voice came shortly after. "Looks like the food at this party is served buffet-style! Now that's my kind of lunch hour," he said with a chuckle. "Pick whatever dish you'd like before the host mounts a resistance!"

"They made it too easy, then," Naomi answered, trying to decide which bay she'd go for first. She figured it was time they broke formation and hit the enemy sooner rather than later. "Looks like they've got some pretty tasty targets. Lots of treats to choose from." It looked as though the bay to the north had the larger targets, as well as more clustered together. It would be tricky, but Naomi's plan was to go for that one. "Alright everyone, let's split up. Count, you stick with me. Lanza, Húxiān, take whichever way you want and pick off as many as you can."

"Wilco! Heh. I'll eat their hearts out!" Húxiān said as they broke formation. Naomi headed for Anchorhead Bay with Count right behind her. Lanza, on the other hand, chose to take Dakiouk Bay on his own while Húxiān followed Count and Naomi.

As Strider Squadron closed in on their targets, Naomi figured she should start with her special weapons right out of the gate. They'd inflict more damage and it wasn't like she couldn't go back to resupply. Lining the circle up on her HUD, she went for the nearest target to her, pretty sure that she was already in range. Sure enough, the circle was red and told her she could go ahead and start firing. So she did, without any hesitation, taking out the anti-aircraft defense system they had set up right on the shore. The entire thing went up in flames, and Naomi banked to the left to move on to the next target as she announced, "This is Strider 1. Target is destroyed. That's a score for me, everyone."

"Whoah, Trigger! Don't you dare get the juicy stuff before I do!" Count growled, although it was more playful than it was annoyed. She chuckled to herself at his reaction. "You didn't even tell me we had a competition going on today!"

"Consider _that_ me telling you," Naomi replied as she flew over the bay, trying to decide which target she'd go for next. Count and Húxiān broke off from her wing and started to pick their own targets. Húxiān made a move on some vehicles making a move to the city to hide behind the buildings while Count went after a pair of missile boats at the dock next to them. Naomi went for a frigate, again making good use of her pulse lasers to quickly eliminate the target. "And that's one more for me."

"Ha! There isn't even any enemy movement yet!" Count said proudly. "This isn't as hard as I'd thought!"

"This should be a walk in the park for you guys, especially since you managed to take them by surprise like that. You even took out their AA defense system before it could be activated, so that will make things easier for you later," Long Caster said, clearly confident in their abilities to carry out the mission. Not that he ever doubted them to begin with. "Be sure to gobble up all the high value targets. Don't be afraid to get a bit messy while you eat, just go wild and forget about your manners!"

Húxiān laughed. "Never had any of those to begin with!"

By now, the fleet had finally started to move. More vehicles were making a run for it and their ships began to attempt to pull out of the port and make for the ocean. Naomi wasn't about to let them get away that easy, and she brought her plane around in a hard turn and made a move for one of the larger ships. It was a battle cruiser, and from the looks of things it was a slow and yet difficult target. Unlike the rest of the ships, it hadn't made it very far and was just beginning to try and leave. She wasn't having any of that. Switching to regular missiles, she fired two of them as soon as she had a lock and switched back to her pulse lasers to finish it off. She was coming at it head on, firing as much as she could in a short time. At the last possible second, the ship burst into flames with a loud explosion and she pulled up and clear of the blast just then. Satisfied, Naomi moved on to the next target

There was an Aegis vessel that had already made it to the center of the port, a destroyer and a cruiser flanking it, but it looked ripe for the picking. Naomi also knew for a fact after facing the fleet at Snider's Top that these things were a pain in the ass when it came to destroying one of them, or anything near it. She brought her plane into a dive, firing a pair of missiles and pulling up to ready herself for another run. As expected, only one missile made it through and the other one was destroyed. She didn't want to try a low approach until she absolutely had to, so she figured she would soften it up with some machine gun fire while in a dive again and then fire another set of missiles at the last minute.

Both missiles hit the target, and the shockwave from the explosion sent some water splashing up, into the air, some of the droplets scattering onto her cockpit. Naomi let out a cheer at her small victory as she circled the port again, trying to decide which ship she'd go for next. While she did this, she figured she'd boast about her kill a little just to get Count and Húxiān, maybe even Lanza, to up their game a little. "Vessel has been destroyed! That's one more for me. I thought the three of you would put up more of a fight than this. Especially you, Count!"

Long Caster chuckled as he confirmed her kill. "Nice work, Trigger! Attack hit on Aegis vessel _Ceto_. Ship destroyed!"

"I heard that the _Ceto_ was one of the more high value targets out here today," Húxiān said, clearly smiling as she did. "We've got a big game hunter!"

Naomi couldn't help but feel a small surge of pride at this, even though there wasn't really anything too special about the kill and it wasn't like it was the first ship she'd sunk. Count let out a laugh, though, surprisingly not arguing with Húxiān about the importance of the target. In fact, it sounded as if he was agreeing with her. "Damn, Trigger! You can't resist hogging the spotlight, can you?" His laughter had faded, and he used a cockier tone as he added, "You've had your fun, Trig. I've got dibs on the next one!"

"Anything you want, Sir Count," Naomi answered with a grin. "Plenty of ships to choose from, so don't you even think about taking from my plate."

Lanza cut in, his tone was teasing as he said, "Alright, you two, are you gonna shoot at the targets or at each other? Because Húxiān and I have got about three kills while y'all have been bickering. Or whatever it is that you're doing."

"He's right, guys. You should get your heads in the game," Húxiān advised, pulling up as she wiped out the last of the AA guns and AD tanks that were hiding between the buildings. Naomi almost felt bad for wrecking the streets like they were, and even though the city had probably been evacuated or was mostly military, it still didn't make it any better. If her wingmen were worrying about it at all, then they didn't say anything. Húxiān went on as she surveyed the wreckage and waited to make a move on her next target. "If we can get 'em here then we'll be able to save a lot of boys in Farbanti. We have to be focused so we don't let any slip past...that being said, I've got five or six."

"Well, looks like not even _you_ can pass up a good challenge, Húxiān." Naomi said this shortly before she switched back to her pulse lasers, braking as much as she could without stalling as she lined up the circle on a group huddled together on the farthest end of the bay, in the port behind the bridge. Two frigates and two missile boats, in a perfect cluster. She made as low an approach as she felt comfortable and began firing, wiping out both of the missile boats and one of the frigates, damaging the other one. She switched to her missiles and fired off two, pulling up and banking to the right to avoid hitting either the boat or one of the cranes. Circling back around, she confirmed the destruction of all four ships. "And that's another four, making eight for me! Y'all are making this too easy for me."

"Like I said, we can't let Trigger hog the spotlight! C'mon, let's go get 'em!" Count said with a laugh as he went for the only other Aegis vessel still in the port. He and Húxiān and wiped out the destroyer and cruiser next to the one Naomi had destroyed, and now their attention was turned to other ships. With some well placed gunfire and with a low approach to fire missiles, the ship's CIWS useless against the missiles. Unable to intercept them, Count's missiles struck the ship and with a burst of flame it began to list. "Target destroyed! Who's making it too easy now, eh Trigger?"

"Alright, alright. Nice work, Count. Just keep up the hard work and we'll be fine," Naomi said. By now, most of the targets around Anchorhead Bay had been taken out, only a handful of ships still left. Naomi went after the battle cruiser that had already made it under the bridge and was heading for open waters. She flew over the bridge, firing two missiles when she was in range and then circled back around to go for another run. She lined up the shot and got a lock, firing right away. Right when she did, Count swooped in and fired a missile before pulling out of his approach. Both missiles hit at the same time, and the ship was destroyed. Naomi scoffed in disbelief. "Seriously, Count? Heh. Now we can't tell who actually destroyed the ship, you asshole!"

"We can both take it. That way everything is nice and fair, exactly like you don't like it," Count said smugly. "Seriously, save some targets for the rest of us. Quit taking all the good ones!"

"Says the man that just stole my kill," she retorted. "Steal it again and I won't hold back next time."

Before Count could answer her, a new voice came over the radio. It belonged to a middle-aged man, and he was quick to introduce himself as one of their allies. "This is Major Jacob Grimm with Tucker 0-4, the unit assisting you on this operation. We're requesting an air strike on the helicopter carrying our target." Grimm? That was a familiar name. One that she'd definitely heard before, even if it had been a while. Question was, did they have any relation or was it just coincidence? Naomi didn't worry about that then, though, as the major quickly continued. "Target is Vice Chief of Naval Ops, Rear Admiral Samuel Prin. We're sending the coordinates now."

Long Caster's voice followed the request, speaking to Strider Squadron to inform them of the new target. "All aircraft, we've data linked the intel we've received from the recon team. If you have a visual on the target, shoot it down. Our goal is to hit Erusea's navy hard enough to prevent them from giving us trouble in Farbanti. In order to do that, we may have to take out some of their higher ranking officers if they try and flee the area. Don't let that happen, or we could have difficulties farther down the line."

It didn't take long for the target to come into view, the helicopter taking off quickly and changing its direction to head away from the city and towards safety deeper into Erusean territory. There were a handful of ships left that were trying to exit the bay, but Naomi trusted Count and Húxiān to keep them busy. Not that they'd give her any trouble when she was over land. Besides that, she was the closest one to the target. Within barely any time at all, her F-15 caught up to the V-22 and got a lock on it. She fired, and due to the slow reaction time of either their pilot or the aircraft itself the missile struck the target and it fell to the trees below, smoke and flames being all that was left from it as it hit the ground, likely breaking in half.

With a sigh, recalling Harling's death in the same kind of aircraft, she banked and turned back to the bay, not taking much pride in the kill like she'd have expected. Something about it was depressing, maybe even some kind of a cruel joke. She didn't dwell on it for too long, and Major Grimm's voice sounded in her ear once again. "Target confirmed down. With Samuel Prin gone, Erusea's naval stratagem will lose its edge. Nice work, Captain Foulke. Guess you really do live up to your reputation."

"Thank you, sir. Just trying to do my job," Naomi replied with almost forced politeness. She lost the excitement that she previously felt during the mission and it was replaced with something else, now. Something she couldn't really put her finger on. Maybe it was the fact that she let herself think of Harling, or maybe she just realized that the operation needed to be taken a bit more serious. Then again, putting a name and face to someone you were killing seemed to change the way she felt about it. They weren't some faceless enemy then. She tried to shake away the thought, shuddering slightly. Regaining her focus, she checked her radar and took a look around the bay. "Long Caster, it looks like all hostile ships in the area have been destroyed. I think we wiped out all of their forces in the urban area."

"Good work, Strider! 30% of observed enemy forces have been destroyed!" Long Caster said, sounding as though he was smiling. "The radio chatter in that area has quieted down, so feel free to try a different location. Plenty of delicacies on other tables as well. Just hit 'em like you did their friends and you should have no problem."

"Great!" Húxiān said with a victory cheer as she and Count formed up on Naomi's wing, probably looking over the damage they'd done as the three of them began to fly towards Dakiouk Bay. "Now we just gotta keep it up!"

"Well, we ain't done eating yet," Count said with a chuckle. "Ain't that right, Trigger?"

Her mood returning to the way it was at the start of the mission, Naomi couldn't help but smile. "You betcha, Count. Lanza's got the southern port all to himself. Seems like a bit much for his poor stomach to handle."

"Damn straight!" Lanza answered with a laugh, and Naomi could make out his fighter among the others, rolling clear of some gunfire. "Trigger, Count, lend me a hand, will ya?"

"Righto! Let's go Trigger!" Count replied.

A quick check of her remaining weapons told her that they'd have to cross the return line and resupply before long. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that the rest of Strider Squadron was also running low on ammunition, and the last thing that they wanted was to be caught in a mess like this without anything to shoot back with. There were more enemy air targets around Dakiouk Bay, a couple of drones buzzing around among them. Lanza was firing everything he could at them, having paid no attention to the ships escaping from the shipyard below. Two of them were making it out into the ocean, although Naomi didn't blame him for ignoring him. It was better to get the flies off his back before he could go for the real prize. There were three that he had managed to get, though, and with what he had he'd managed to take out three of their ships, including the Aegis ashore.

Naomi switched from her regular missiles to her pulse lasers once again, zeroing in on one of the ships trying to make its way out of Dakiouk Bay and into open waters. It seemed that Count picked up on what she was doing, as he adjusted his one course so he could target the second one. Naomi was quick to begin firing, damaging the ship enough that she could pick it off with one or two missiles. And that's just what she did, pressing the button to fire once she had a solid lock. Count fired at his own target for the second time just as she fired at hers. Both missiles hit and the ships' deck went up in flames with a loud explosion that sent water flying into the air. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't a tragic and yet captivating sight.

As she moved to try and help Lanza out with the enemy's air support, she tried to switch weapons and fire. She managed to get a few, grazing shots in on the F/A-18 that was tailing Lanza but as she tried to continue firing an automated voice sounded instead. "_Ammunition zero._" Naomi furrowed her brow. What? Already? She continued trying to fire, even after checking her reserves, but the voice was just as stubborn as she was and continued to relay the disappointing message. "_Ammunition zero. Ammunition zero._"

"Shit." Naomi relaxed her hold on the trigger, figuring that it was pointless. So much for her hoping that it was just a glitch in the system. Checking her missile supply, she only had four left. She could either resupply or use her machine gun instead, which had almost a full load. But how long before she exhausted that? Sighing with frustration, she pulled away from her pursuit of the enemy fighter. "Alright, I'm out. I've got to return to resupply. I'm thinking we should take it in turns so no one's left on their own, so we'll all go in pairs. Who's coming with me and who's staying?"

"Aaaand I'm out. C'mon, Trigger. I'll keep you company." Count's voice came in reply, and Naomi looked around to find where he was. The last of his missiles, or at least what Naomi assumed was the last, streaked by, both missing the UAV that they were fired at. Count's Eagle appeared at her wing, and a quick look around to see as much as she could told her that Húxiān and Lanza were still engaging the enemy. As if sensing what Naomi's next question could be, Count called out to the others. "Húxiān! Lanza! You two gonna be good until we get back?"

"Don't worry, guys," Lanza answered with a grunt as he evaded an incoming missile. "We've got everything covered here. At least, we can wait until you come back."

"Alright, if you're sure you've got it handled. Watch each other's backs, now, and keep that 100% survival rate in mind," Naomi advised them, feeling a little worried with just running off and leave them on their own. But they were coming right back and Naomi trusted their skill and experience enough to hold up until she got back. Turning her nose away from the fighting, she checked to make sure that Count was following her. "C'mon, Count. Let's hurry it up. Don't wanna keep them waiting too long, do we?"

Without any trouble, the two of them made it back to the allied base that was waiting for them, noting a few extra aircraft and some ground vehicles scattered around the base, all appearing to be in good condition. Naomi assumed that the extra aircraft were a just in case kind of thing, but she doubted they had anyone to fly them. Pushing this out of her mind, she followed instructions from the control tower and she and Count landed quickly and without incident. The ground crew were quick to make their way over to their fighters, Naomi and Count both remaining in their cockpits while the work was done. A few jokes and short conversations were carried out between the two of them and between the crew switching out their weapons. In a short matter of time they were all set and ready to take off with full weapon loads and gas tanks.

After fastening her oxygen mask back in place on her helmet, she took off second, after Count. Their engines roared as they took to the skies again, their wheels retracting as they were given permission to return to the operation. Together, flying side by side, they broke through the cloud cover and in a few minutes they were back in the operation area. Things hadn't changed much since they left to resupply, only a few enemies having been suppressed by Húxiān and Lanza. Naomi, feeling refreshed after a short break from the flying and fighting, but still a bit tired, announced their return to their friends. "Yo, Lanza! Húxiān! It's your turn, now. Hope you stayed out of trouble while we were gone."

Both Húxiān and Lanza chuckled, with Húxiān being the only one to reply. "Actually, we were just about to start havin' some real fun until you two decided to crash the party."

It was Naomi and Count's turn to laugh, but they were quick to jump back into the fight while Húxiān and Lanza withdrew and headed to the return lines themselves. Most of what they had to deal with was air-to-air, although she did notice a few ground targets near some containers. Likely what had been holding the drones before their launch. She hoped they didn't have any more of them hidden away and that the tanks and AA guns that had lined up weren't there to defend them. What good did they think they could do if that were the case, though? Naomi didn't bother thinking about it, having more pressing matters to attend to.

By the time they'd finished off the Super Hornets (which wasn't difficult, save for a couple of misses), Lanza and Húxiān returned from their own break, armed to the teeth and ready to get back into the fighting. It seemed as though the Erusean forces were starting to exhaust themselves, but they continued to stubbornly defend the yard. The AH-64s were giving them the most trouble, keeping them from destroying the containers around the area. Húxiān and Lanza continued trying to hit the ground targets but the Apaches made it difficult.

Naomi circled around, putting some distance between her and the six or so helicopters so she could have plenty of time to deal with all of them. They made it pretty easy, grouping themselves together. Naomi couldn't help but wonder if they knew how bad an idea it was to practically line themselves up for her but she wasn't going to waste the opportunity. Blowing out a breath, getting a bit bored and tired after all the work they'd done, she radioed the others. "Lanza, I'm gonna take out the helicopters. That should distract them long enough for you to take out those containers and get started on those SAMs and AA guns. Count, Húxiān, you mind dealing with those UAVs and keeping them off our tails?"

"Roger that, Trigger. We'll take care of them," Húxiān declared, sounding rather determined. She and Count began to pick off the UAVs, chasing them to try and get a clear shot and to distract them from Naomi and Lanza.

Once the circle on her HUD turned red, she slowed her speed and began firing at the helicopters, centering it on the target as best as she could. The helicopters were easy targets, too slow to evade and react to the attack. It only took a couple of hits from the lasers to cause the Apache to either break in half, severing its tail or the rotor blades to break off and send it crashing into the water. Although Naomi didn't like the thought of going down like that, it was a war and there wasn't any other choice. In a short amount of time, all of the helicopters had been destroyed and Lanza had already started picking off the Erusean ground targets, wiping out the UAV containers and moving on to the anti-air weapons they had set up, hiding behind warehouses to make it trickier to get to them.

"All attack helicopters have been destroyed. Nice work, Trigger!" Long Caster complimented her and confirmed the helicopters' destruction as Naomi scanned her radar for what her next target would be, taking a little bit of pride in the small victory.

"Damn. You're just merciless today, aren't you, boss?" Lanza asked with a chuckle.

"Wow," Count said, huffing out what sounded like a laugh as he did. "Don't you think you're going a bit too hard, Trigger?"

Naomi rolled her eyes and smirked. "That's six more for me. Which reminds me...Long Caster, do you mind keeping score for us?"

Long Caster chuckled. "We can look into that later, Trigger. Right now you all should just do your best and focus on the best targets." He paused as they all grumbled in agreement, but once that died down he chose to check up on their own ground unit. "This is Long Caster to Tucker 0-4 and all allied aircraft. We have reinforcements coming from the west and northwest. Four MiG-31s, faster than the other fighters we've faced so far. Plus a few more UAVs managed to launch from the bay. Major Grimm, now would be a perfect time for someone to try and slip away. Let us know if you discover any more high-threat targets trying to leave the area."

"Roger that, Long Caster. This is Tucker 0-4," Major Grimm's voice came in response, only a few seconds after Long Caster finished. "It seems that your hunch was right. Two Erusean senior officers are taking off now, likely hoping that our squadron will be too occupied with their air support. One is near you, in Dakiouk Bay, and the other is trying to escape from Anchor Bay now that the fighting's died down over there. We're sending you the coordinates now, so if you have the time then we'd greatly appreciate you taking them out."

"Data linking now. Strider Squadron, we've sent the ID data. You all know the drill. If you have visual then you eliminate it," Long Caster told them, and Naomi did indeed see two more blips appear on her radar. She probably couldn't get them both on her own, though.

They were both fleeing in the same direction, towards Erusean territory in the northwest, the same direction that the enemy reinforcements were coming from. Naomi and Húxiān were the closest, and she noticed that the guys were cleaning up the drones. It looked like it would just be the two of them. "Strider 4, you're with me. There's one for each of us. Doesn't matter which one you go for so long as we can keep them from getting away. They're easy to pick off." I should know. Naomi added silently as she banked to the left and straightened out, trying to get a visual on the target from where she was.

"I've got your six, Trigger. Let's go!" Húxiān announced and indeed her wingman was right behind her as they both throttled up and headed straight towards the enemy targets.

The targets were slow, but had already put some distance between them and Strider Squadron, just like Prin's aircraft had done. Naomi and Húxiān caught up quickly, and Naomi locked onto the first and fired, breaking off as the missile hit and allowing Húxiān to get a lock and fire immediately after, striking the second target. Húxiān followed Naomi with a whoop of victory, the two of them regrouping and surveying the damage. Major Grimm's voice was quick to follow just like the first time. "Targets confirmed down. The men you just killed aboard those helicopters, Captain Dirk Tarnat and Fleet Commander Gleb Almazov, were key players in Erusea's navy. Captain Tarnat was the main reason that the cruiser _Enyo_ was deemed such a threat, and without Almazov it will take a while for Erusea to rebuild their navy. You've dealt quite a blow, ladies. Nice work."

"You mind giving us a bit more of a heads up next time, Major?" Naomi asked with a huff, having found the sudden pursuit less than ideal. Not to mention, now they had to tangle with Erusea's reinforcements.

"We'll try our best, Captain," he promised sheepishly. "Sorry about that. We didn't think they'd get away so quickly. We'll let you know ASAP next time."

Long Caster was quick to change the subject back to their main objective, urgently reminding them of the arrival of new hostiles. "Strider Squadron, enemy squadrons are closing in. We've also confirmed additional enemy ground forces, and we believe a fleet to be en route as we speak. Keep a sharp eye out and try and reduce the enemies as much as you can. Don't forget that you're outnumbered. Be quick to react and try and make it back safe."

Count and Lanza all returned to formation with Naomi and Húxiān as they readied themselves to face the new arrivals head on. Naomi took a look at her HUD and their surroundings, figuring out where the targets were and who would attack what. "Alright, Count, you and I will take care of the MiGs. Lanza, you take out the ground forces, and Húxiān, make sure none of the fighters slip through and try and get Lanza. You cover him and catch anything we miss. And most of all, like Long Caster said, be careful."

"We get it already!" Count said, almost laughing. "100% survival rate. We'll keep our heads up, so let's just go get 'em already!"

"Impatient, aren't ya, Count?" Húxiān asked in a teasing way, and Lanza and Naomi both laughed at his expense. He was being rather antsy. "Relax, you know that we're all going home together. Wiseman and Trigger wouldn't have it any other way."

"I'm not gonna keep you waiting much longer, Count. You've got your orders, so go wild," Naomi said with a grin as their formation broke, with her and Count heading to intercept the MiG-31s. They weren't severely outnumbered, and it was a pretty even fight if you only took the fighters into consideration and left out the ground targets. When they were finally within lock on range, Naomi fired a missile but the enemy Foxhound was quick to evade the missile. What surprised her, though, was that even though she was within range for the enemy to have a radar lock, she only heard the warning that she was being tracked. No missile ever came. Instead, she was strafed as one of the MiGs got close enough to her, and she could hear a couple dings as her own plane took a hit. "What the hell?"

She rolled away and braked, letting the Foxhound shoot ahead of her, not being maneuverable to match her movements. They were going two-on-one, and it looked like Count was having some difficulty and confusion as well. It was odd that she was so surprised by the lack of missiles flying her way, but she saw it more as a curious change of pace than anything else. She wasn't going to toy with them and drag the fight on for too long, figuring that it would be easier to just give them a chance to bail out. They'd likely be captured and taken prisoner or recovered by their own country. Either way, there wasn't any reason to waste time and fuel, so after a short game of trying to figure out how they reacted to different moves and how they'd counter them, Naomi managed to get on one's six.

Instead of using up her pulse lasers anymore, figuring that she should save them for later just in case, she figured she'd use up her missile and machine gun reserve and give them a taste of their own medicine. The missile made contact with the target and the Foxhound's wing began smoking and the tail of the aircraft had been shot off. It spiraled out of control before Naomi saw its pilot punch out, making sure to steer clear of the enemy pilot's parachute. There wasn't any reason to go after it, and it would be a war crime if she did. What happened to that guy now wasn't up to her, or him for that matter. He could easily retreat to his own forces, though, provided he had time and wasn't injured.

Shaking off her concern and stray thoughts for the enemy of all people, she turned on the pilot's wingman. It seemed as though downing their pal gave them an extra will to fight and she noted the more aggressive fighting style they seemed to adopt. Nothing that Naomi couldn't handle, and she was sure that the same went for Count. The Foxhounds withdrew for a minute to regroup, giving Naomi and Count a brief opportunity to do the same. Count let out a breath, sounding tired from trying to get a clear lock on their enemy. Apparently these guys could still outmaneuver them, even if they weren't the best at it. So far he hadn't managed to get a solid, finishing hit on them. "Yo, Trigger, you notice? That MiG over there isn't firing any missiles."

"Yeah, I caught that," Naomi said. "They're pretty good with what they've got, though."

"They must have scrambled without changing weapons first," Long Caster suggested. Naomi would believe it. Really, what other explanation was there? They were dropouts from Top Gun or something? "Doesn't seem like they're equipped for air-to-air."

"Unable to fire missiles, huh?" Count said, and Naomi already guessed what he was thinking. There had been a time where they were without weapons entirely, if only for a short while, over Zapland. She never thought about it, but Count and Tabloid must have flown on missions without weapons for much longer than a couple of minutes like she had. As the Foxhounds came back around to face them a second time, it surprised her when Count was the first to pull towards them, looking as though he was planning on meeting them head on. "I know how that feels, but that's no reason to go easy on ya!"

Count was quick to take out one of the Foxhounds, both of them having lost their previous curiosity about the aircrafts' unexpected tactics when fighting them. He faced one head on, firing a pair of missiles and turning his plane away as they hit, blowing the enemy MiG to pieces. Naomi didn't see anybody eject from it, but it was mostly engulfed in smoke and she didn't have a clear view. Naomi split one off from the group, chasing him away from his wingman. She hit him with a missile, and his plane seemed unsteady in the air as he evaded the second one she fired and began to limp his way back to Erusean territory. His wingman was quick to follow after Count got a hit on him.

One of the pilots' planes was too badly damaged, and he ejected and left his wingman to continue by himself. Naomi wasn't about to gun down a retreating aircraft, and although Count could be rather gung-ho, she knew that he wasn't going to do something like that either. And he stayed right on her wing as they allowed their enemy to retreat. Long Caster was quick to update everyone on the situation. "Three of the Foxhounds have been splashed, and the last one's retreating. There's no need to worry about them any longer."

"Ha! You can't stop us with just machine guns, geniuses!" Count said smugly.

"Don't start celebrating yet, Count," Naomi advised, even though she wanted to join in. She was starting to grow tired of the back and forth fighting and most of her excitement from the start of the mission had ebbed away. "I doubt that's the last of their forces. They're not stupid, which means their air support wouldn't be retreating unless they had a backup plan."

Long Caster's voice came again, slightly more urgent than it had been before but still level. "She's right. Eight Su-37s are approaching from the west, and a large fleet coming from the southeast. The fleet looks powerful, with Aegis vessel Metis and battleship Dysnomia numbering among them. Our intel confirms that it's the rest of their reserves, the Rán Fleet. It's going to take a lot of work to bring them down."

"Seriously? We have to fight a pristine fleet? After all that?" Húxiān asked. A frustrated sigh followed. "Ugh. Just when I think we're finished, something else comes up."

"Came in for a picnic and we found ourselves in a marathon," Lanza added, not irritable or frustrated but still tired.

"Yeah, I thought you said this was gonna be a walk in the park?" Count said.

Naomi didn't add to the complaining, figuring there wasn't a point to it. It wouldn't change anything, but it would have been nice not to be the one in charge so she could express her thoughts on the situation. But she had the responsibility of holding everyone together and that meant that she had to act like she was fine with the situation. As she opened her mouth to tell them to stop complaining and reassure them that everything would go just fine, but Long Caster spoke before she could. "You take walks to...well, to _walk_. But at a picnic, you've gotta eat."

Count sighed, but it turned into a weak chuckle. "Well, you don't have to tell me which you prefer. You ready, Trigger?"

"Yeah, I'm ready," Naomi replied. She checked her radar as she turned to the fleet. Although she hated attacks like these, she didn't really see any other choice. They'd have to hit them, and they'd probably have to hit them low. Taking Wiseman's advice to Húxiān from their operation to protect Stonehenge, she decided to just grit her teeth and fly. No point in distracting herself by worrying when she had a squadron to lead. "Strider Squadron, we're taking these guys out together. Lanza, you and I will start hitting the fleet. Count, Húxiān, you two back us up. Take out their air support and hit any of the ships if you've got the chance. Most importantly, don't get yourselves shot down. Don't want Wiseman yelling at us, do you?"

"Don't think we want _you_ yelling at us either," Count said through a smile. Naomi rolled her eyes at him but said nothing as he got into his position on her wing, the others following him. As the fleet came within visual range, Count suddenly let out a whistle. "That's a big fleet they've got there. Can't believe they managed to hide this from us for so long."

"Well, they managed to hide that submarine, too. Erusea's got some tricks up their sleeves, that much is for sure," Naomi said, shaking her head. "Like Húxiān and Long Caster said earlier, if they make it to Farbanti then we're going to get our asses kicked. Give 'em hell, everyone!"

With that, Naomi rolled lowered her altitude, getting a lock on a destroyer that was on the edge of their fleet. She fired a pair of missiles and hit them with her pulse lasers shortly after before she had to pull up, her missile warning blaring in her ear. The destroyer was no more, though, smoking as it began to list, all of its defenses now offline. Lanza hit the Aegis vessel before their CIWS could counter his hit, but the ship only took some damage. He was quick to come in for another run, taking it out with one more hit and pulling clear of some desperate machine gun fire from it. Count and Húxiān were dividing their time, scoring hits on the other two destroyers in the fleet while fighting off the enemy air support as well.

Su-37s and F-2s had joined the fray, but no more UAVs had shown up yet. It surprised her, considering that there were so many before. Surely Erusea had more than that on their side. She ignored her worry about the air support, knowing they could handle it regardless, and set her sights on the battle cruiser. The big target, and the one that would likely give them the most trouble. Her missiles were shot out of the sky before they reached their target, so Naomi switched back to her pulse lasers and hit them until she got as close as possible. She switched and fired two missiles at it before shakily pulling up and clear of the water. It was damaged, but it was going to need more than that.

Count, on the other hand, had more success, and he and Húxiān had both taken out the enemy destroyers. Lanza was finishing off the last two ships himself, with some help from Count. Húxiān began keeping the enemy air support busy, and Naomi turned her focus back to the big prize. Her wingmen were fine and the fleet was almost done for. Just a couple more runs should do it. She got a lock and fired, both striking the target. The ship was tough, though, and it was going to need more than that. Naomi tried her best to get a hit with the pulse lasers, but only managed a few, passing hits. She let out a frustrated growl to herself and pulled up, dodging a missile from the battleship as she did.

Naomi maneuvered through the clouds, turning hard and bringing the plane into a dive. She craned her neck to get a look at the ship from the cockpit before she entered the dive, lining up a clear shot. She switched to her pulse lasers and lined it up, firing them without wasting any time. The sharp sound of them firing could be heard on her end, and she couldn't imagine what it sounded like to the enemy. The lasers hit the ship one after the other, and at last the ship burst into flames, smoking. There was visible damage done to it, and it wouldn't be able to recover. Their ship, their entire fleet for that matter, was finally done for. "Strider 1, target has been destroyed!"

"Haha! Trigger just sank a battleship!" Count cheered as he and Lanza pulled up and away from what was left of their target. He must have looked over the fleet before he proudly called, "Sorry guys, but your cruise has been cancelled!"

"Shame, too," Naomi said with a grin, joining in on the joke. "After all, the tickets are non-refundable. And from the looks of things, pretty damn expensive."

"All hostile ships in the vicinity have been destroyed. Excellent work!" Long Caster said to them, a hint of pride in the praise he was giving them.

Brigadier General Clemens' voice came over the radio, clearly disappointed or disapproving. Definitely not as happy as Naomi would have expected him to be. You'd have thought someone had just told him is dog died or something with the way he sounded. Needless to say, he was the last person that Naomi wanted to hear and unfortunately there wasn't anything she or anyone else could do about it. It sounded as though he had just joined Wiseman and was addressing him and Long Caster more than Strider Squadron. "Hmm...it would seem that the famous Three Strikes and her squadron are performing well above our expectations."

_Well aren't you a ray of sunshine_... Naomi thought, but she didn't say it out loud.

To her surprise, though, Count voiced his own thoughts on Clemens' seemingly down observation on their performance. "Well, you sound downright ecstatic about that," he said in his own disappointed way that mimicked Clemens' tone. With a sigh, turning his plane away from the burning wreck of ships and back towards the city where more targets were waiting for them, he added, "Alright, Trigger, let's go. Maybe we can get a five star review from this guy with a little extra work."

"Not sure about that. You know how critics are. Even if you do it flawlessly, no hiccups at all, the most they'd give is four. Maybe four and a half if you were lucky and polite about things," Naomi said with a small, tired smile. With a chuckle she added, "And, y'know, we're not really either of those things."

Wiseman let out a sigh, almost sounding torn between being amused and being upset at them for disrespecting the brigadier general. Naomi knew that Wiseman didn't like him, though, so if he was upset at them for it then it was most likely just a show so that Clemens wasn't wise to the fact that they had their suspicions about them. Regardless of whatever his feelings on the subject were, Wiseman went on with what he had to say. "We've reduced enough of the enemy forces. Job well done."

Long Caster chuckled. "That prime rib and truffle soup sure were good, but hold on! We've still got a few minutes left before lunchtime is over, so go out and grab some desserts!"

"I knew you'd say that!" Count said, his voice a mix between irritable and amused.

"Well, you've got plenty of treats to choose from, Count," Long Caster replied, and Naomi imagined him wearing his characteristic, friendly smile as he was speaking. Judging from his tone, that's exactly what he was doing. Unfortunately, he was still the bearer of bad news. Or mildly inconvenient news. "Additional UAVs are confirmed on radar, along with a few extra squadrons. Looks like Erusea's finally getting things together. They're going to start pushing back harder soon."

"UAVs, huh?" Naomi asked, scanning her surroundings for any sight of them. Sure enough, there they were, flitting around in the distance alongside their human squadron mates. If you could even consider those things allies rather than equipment. She sighed. "I was wondering when they were going to pull more of these guys out. Kinda disappointed they didn't do it sooner, actually."

"Well, it _is_ pretty shabby for a reinforcement," Lanza said. "I mean, seriously, they can't do the work themselves?"

Húxiān seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden, as if something was off. "Stay sharp. There's something amiss."

Naomi did know that UAVs meant bad news, but it wasn't any different than what they'd normally be facing. She didn't like going up against them, and she did know that sooner or later they could get too tired to fight back, but for now there wasn't any reason to worry. But, maybe there was. Naomi wasn't about to let her guard down, though, and she knew that the others would likely do the same. Húxiān's worry probably encouraged Lanza and Count to pay more attention than they already were, though. She knew she didn't have to warn them a second time. She'd been reminding them over and over again to keep an eye out and by now it was probably already drilled into their heads.

The fight wasn't anything more than a run of the mill dogfight stretched out over the ocean and the city below them. Their flying was starting to get sloppy, and Naomi knew that you didn't have to be an experienced pilot to see that. It was almost painfully obvious how tired they were, slower to react and evading enemy targets at the last possible minute. She was starting to get a bit anxious, mostly because of how many times Count and Húxiān were coming to getting their wings clipped. Permanently. Lanza was doing a bit better, sticking to low flying like he was used to and throwing the enemy off a bit with some basic maneuvers. Naomi was focusing all of her attention on the UAVs, knowing that they'd have the most difficulty with those.

The UAVs seemed to be getting more and more persistent than they had been, changing direction and pulling maneuvers that were odd compared to what they'd faced in the past. Not to mention the speed and stealth upgrades they seemed to have received. Whoever Erusea had in charge of these things must have been having a ball in the last few days, improving things left and right. Unfortunately, they couldn't compete with human pilots in one single aspect. It wasn't adapting very well in the midst of a battle, and Naomi could read their movements and fly accordingly while the UAV was confined to the limits of its programming. It may be new and improved, at least as far as Naomi could tell, but it was an easy obstacle to overcome.

As the battle started to turn in their favor, Naomi started to feel a sense of dread building up and remembered the comment that Húxiān had made earlier. It later became apparent why the two of them felt as though something wasn't sitting right when Long Caster's voice came over the radio again, raised slightly and far more urgent and concerned than he'd been throughout the operation. "Warning! Incoming high-speed projectile! Trying to verify the impact zone now!"

"Projectile?!" Lanza echoed in shock.

Naomi gritted her teeth, scanning the skies for something that looked out of place. This wasn't Helios...it had to be something else. Right? Erusea wouldn't risk human pilots like this. She noticed Húxiān as her wingman shot down one of the enemy fighters, trying to dodge a UAV on her tail. But this wasn't like the ones they'd been facing. It was smaller and much, much faster. Naomi was quick to spring into action, turning hard and more abruptly than she ever had and trying to reach Húxiān as soon as possible. She was going on a gut instinct more than anything, but she felt like she didn't have a choice but to trust it. "Strider 4! Húxiān! New enemy on radar! Shake that drone off, now!"

It came as a surprise when David finally cut in, probably having been listening in and monitoring the situation from his home like he'd done during their last operation. His voice was concerned and gave a clear, unexpected order to the two of them. "It's the terminal guidance! Captain, Lieutenant, get away from that UAV!"

"What do you mean?!" Count demanded, already trying to move in to offer support for Naomi and Húxiān. Lanza wasn't far behind, but they both slowed their approach upon hearing David tell them that.

"Contact imminent!" Long Caster practically shouted.

In spite of Naomi trying to fire at it, the UAV dodged all of her attacks, fixated on pursuing Húxiān. But it wasn't firing at her. Naomi tried one more time before there was a sudden explosion in the air, several bursts of flame and smoke in the air, sending a shockwave that shook her plane even though she was what appeared to be a safe distance away. Húxiān hadn't gotten out of the way, though, and was right in the center of its area of impact and let out a startled, pained cry as her plane took a significant amount of damage. "Impact at the UAV's coordinates! Strider 4, are you okay?"

Húxiān responded through clenched teeth, sounding as though she was fighting to keep pain out of her voice. "Gah! Shit! I'm hit, dammit!"

"What?!" Count asked, all of it having happened in the blink of an eye. Even Naomi barely had a chance to register it all, but she'd had a front row seat to help that along

"What happened?" Lanza added, having been the farthest away at the time.

"Strider Squadron! We have more on the way!" Long Caster called out.

"What in the world?" Naomi muttered, looking around as much as she could. Clouds, smoke, enemy aircraft, and her wingmen. That's all she saw. No signs of anything else, yet. Feeling guilt at the fact that she wasn't able to get that weird looking drone off of Húxiān's tail, she figured that she should at least try to find the next one if there was one. Quickly, she checked up on Húxiān, "Húxiān, are you alright? You sound like you're hurt!"

"I'm—" Húxiān began, but she didn't get an opportunity to finish before Long Caster spoke up again.

"Fire incoming! Distance 50,000!" Long Caster said, having steadied his tone and regained a level head, which was more than Naomi could say in that moment. Naomi got eyes on the target, and at first she thought that it was going to just blow up wherever, but it turned suddenly and began flying towards her. Long Caster seemed to be trying to warn her away from it as he added, "Strider 1, it's adjusting it's course!"

Naomi wanted to engage it, to see if she could shoot it down, but her instincts were telling her to run from it until they understood this thing better. Count, on the other hand, jumped right on it and began a pursuit of it, trying to shoot it down but to no avail. Húxiān grunted in pain, having flown a safe distance away, and seemed suddenly aware of where Naomi and Count were as she shouted at Naomi. "Trigger! Get away from that thing! NOW!"

"Distance 30,000!" Long Caster's voice was nervous again. "Contact imminent!"

"Count! Count, break off!" Naomi pulled a hard turn to try and get clear of the blast radius, and it wasn't until she ordered him to stop chasing it that he did the same, barely making it before the sky filled with fire and the sky seemed to ripple for a moment with a visible shockwave. Having been closer to the series of explosions than the first time, Naomi's plane shook more violently than it had done before and her head slammed back against her ejection seat with a loud clacking noise that caused her to wince and clench her jaw. There was a dull, faint pain in the back of her head but it was dissipating quickly and she was more surprised than anything. She heard Count grunt in pain as something similar likely happened to him and Naomi was quick to recover and call out to him. "Shit! Strider 2! Count!"

"I'm fine, Trigger," Count replied as he straightened out his aircraft. "What about you? Are you hanging in there?"

"Yeah, I'm alright," Naomi answered, scanning the skies for any more uninvited guests. It looked like they were in the clear for the time being, but she wasn't about to start thinking they were completely out of the woods. "Long Caster, you got an update for us?"

Long Caster was silent for a moment, but he answered her as professionally calm as always. "Analysis shows the projectile was a railgun shell! We're currently determining the launch site."

It was David that spoke next, seeming to have more information than any of them did. "It's the Alicorn. They're shooting from beyond the horizon, which is why they need the UAV for terminal guidance." There was a faint, garbled tapping sound as he typed something into his computer, and he was silent for a few seconds while he did that. "They're using sub launched UAVs for the terminal guidance, and it would appear that their goal is to get as close to you as possible. These things are small and fast, but you might be able to outrun them. At the very least, you should have some time to get out of range if you know where it'll hit. Long Caster, Major Wiseman, I'm sending you some extra intel now. This might be able to help you, even if it isn't much."

"Thanks, David," Long Caster said. There was a pause, and then he added, "We'll data link the predicted explosion radius from now on. Stay out of its way and don't take too many risks with it."

Naomi nodded firmly to herself but said nothing, finally getting all of her thoughts composed and no longer feeling anxious and shaken from the blast. She noticed Húxiān's plane was trailing smoke, but was still flying, but it wouldn't hold up much longer. Definitely not through the rest of the operation. Naomi wasn't about to lose a wingman out here, and she knew that it was the same call that Wiseman or any other flight leader would make if they were out here instead of her. "Húxiān, your plane took a lot of damage and it sounds like you got pretty beat up yourself. Head back to the return line and get fixed up a little so you can go home. I'm not gonna let you push your luck on a damaged plane."

Húxiān let out an annoyed and surprised scoff, obviously not liking the order that she was given. "Dammit, you're telling me to leave my teammates behind?"

Before Naomi had to do something she didn't want to do and reaffirm the order with some rank pulling involved, Wiseman came to the rescue in a more patient way than Naomi probably would have been. "Húxiān, she's right. Head back. I want that 100% survival rating."

Although she clearly wanted to argue, too stubborn to want to just quit like that, Húxiān knew better than to argue with both of her superiors. Especially when it came to something like this. She sighed, reluctantly disengaging from the enemy fighter she'd been chasing. "Roger that...I'm pulling out."

As Húxiān turned towards the return line, Naomi turned to follow. She was running low on ammunition and she also didn't want Húxiān going back by herself with no one to cover her. "Count, Lanza, I'm going with Húxiān so I can resupply. Watch out for those UAVs next time they show up. I'll be back before you know it." She heard the two of them respond to this and confirm that they had anything handled, so she continued on her way with Húxiān.

Their return was spent mostly in silence, and their return was greeted with a little more concern than before. Húxiān was helped out of her plane after they landed, although she continued to swat away everyone that actually tried to give her any help. She had a couple of bruises and what looked like a scratch or two, but other than that she seemed fine, if not a little tired. Húxiān glanced Naomi's way as she was ushered past the aircraft and away from the runway. She gave a weak and rare smile, one that was almost grateful, and Naomi gave her a thumbs up before her wingman was out of sight. At least she was safe here. Húxiān may not have been happy about leaving, but it didn't change the fact that she obviously had no business continuing to fight.

Naomi couldn't help but feel grateful that, unlike Brownie had been, Húxiān wasn't so stubborn as to keep fighting in spite of orders given. She wasn't good to anyone dead, and in spite of her aggressive and feisty personality, Húxiān recognized this just like everyone else did. Naomi still felt guilty for being unable to keep her from getting hit in the first place, but at least she wasn't hurt too badly. She'd be able to return to action in no time at all. Now if Naomi could just keep Count and Lanza out of harm's way for the rest of the operation, otherwise they'd be stuck at base keeping Húxiān company and Naomi would be on her own. She was pretty sure that nobody wanted that.

Before she took off for the third time that day, she'd wrestled with the decision of switching up her special weaponry and ultimately decided to do so. There were only enemy aircraft left in the area, and although she figured the pulse lasers were a well rounded weapon, she figured it would be easier to go with something different for a change. The ground crew was happy to quickly change them for her, removing the pulse lasers and speedily equipping her Eagle with SASMs in their place. The load was more increased than usual, thanks to some specifications sent over by Avril to give Strider Squadron an extra edge in the battle. It increased the capacity they normally had as well without weighing their planes down too much.

With a smooth takeoff, Naomi was quick to return to the battle and found that Lanza and Count were holding their own quite well without her. She walked in on them yelling about food or something and laughing with Long Caster, and she wisely chose not to ask any questions as she informed them of her presence. "Well, at least the two of you had fun while I was out. Ran up the score a little too, it would seem," Naomi said with a chuckle and their laughter over whatever they'd been talking about began to die off. She held back a sigh, not really liking the idea of being on her own but knowing it was necessary nonetheless, and waited a moment before continuing. "I'll take over now. Count, you and Lanza go and resupply so we can finish strong."

"Whoah, whoah, hold on a minute!" Count's previous good mood came to a screeching halt as she told them this. "You're asking us to leave you on your own? After we've seen what those nutcases can do? Fat chance, Trigger."

Naomi rolled her eyes, stifling a laugh. She couldn't help but wonder why he was so concerned, but it was still reassuring to know that he cared. Trying to sound serious, she shrugged it off and coolly replied. "Stop sounding so worried, Count. I can take care of myself. And if you're so concerned, then why don't you just hurry up and go so that you can get back?" Naomi smirked as she added in a more condescending tone, "Or are you just afraid that I'm going to beat your score? Again."

Count let out an annoyed scoff, but Lanza didn't give him a chance to protest any longer as he began to pull out of the battle. It sounded like he was still grinning as he encouraged Count to follow him. "C'mon, Count. We might want to take her advice and hurry it up before she takes all the good kills," he said with a chuckle. Sighing, Count finally disengaged the enemy and followed after Lanza, no longer arguing with her. Lanza picked up speed, fully intending to follow her orders to the letter it would seem. "That's the spirit! We'll be back before you know it, boss! Be sure to leave a couple of the nicer desserts for us, will ya?"

She grinned. "Yeah, I can't make you any promises, boys!"

Jumping right into the fight once they were safe and out of range, Naomi found herself a bit thrown off without her wingmen flying around and chattering in her ear. It amazed her how much she actually enjoyed listening to them talk all the time, especially Count with his over competitiveness and charisma even in the heat of a battle. Her only source of conversation was Long Caster, but all the talk of food was making her increasingly hungry and they were quickly running out of jokes and puns to use. However, knowing that she'd managed to make it through a couple of operations with radio silence it wasn't like she couldn't function. Sure, the fight felt...off somehow. Even more than it already was. But it wasn't anything she couldn't handle.

It seemed that the SLUAVs were taking a break in their attacks, as she hadn't seen one yet and Long Caster hadn't announced it. There were a couple of large squadrons hanging around, a couple of the UAVs causing some trouble among them, but it was mostly comprised of F/A-18s, Su-57s, and a handful of F-2s that remained from the wave that accompanied the Rán Fleet. Naomi was saving the SASMs she had until the last possible minute, seeing no reason to use them against easy targets that were just as tired as she was. She managed to wipe out the remaining UAVs, getting them out of the way first, then moved on to their escorts. These were fresher pilots than before and more challenging than she expected, but she still managed to take out a couple of them.

Straightening out, climbing into the clouds for a break and to throw the enemy off, she took a deep breath and broke through, high above the clouds now and on the search for her next target. "Hey, Long Caster. It's been a while since we've heard from our guys on the ground," she said, coming to the realization after having a pause to clear her mind and catch her breath. "Think we should check in on them or something? I'd feel bad if I found out something bad happened to them."

Long Caster was speaking through a smile as he answered her, "We heard from them while you were gone. Count took out their target for them. Turns out it was Captain Alonso Tarragó, the captain of the Aegis vessel Thalassa. I think we sunk his ship, but Erusea lost a powerful leader regardless." After he gave her the update on their last target, he went silent for a few minutes. "Alright, Count and Lanza are on their way back. I'll radio Major Grimm now to check in on the ground unit."

The major's voice came over the radio a second after that, sounding winded but still keeping a light tone. "I'll save you the trouble, Long Caster. Tucker 0-4 checking in and requesting an airstrike on the designated heli, as expected." He gave a weak chuckle, and Naomi would have given him more pity had she not been preoccupied with taking down the last F-2 that was determined to give her a hard time. "We're sending the coordinates your way now. Sorry we have you running back and forth like this. I'm sure you probably feel like a waiter trying to take a million orders at once, eh?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Naomi chuckled, rolling clear of a missile and diving to get away from the enemy fighters so she could take out the helicopter. It wasn't a close target, and by the time Naomi had reached the helicopter it was almost already out of the AO. She swiftly took care of it, lining up the shot and firing with the machine gun to avoid waiting for a lock. Finally it was torn apart and beat up enough that it crashed to the ground, and Naomi turned away from it. "This is Strider 1. Target is down."

"This is Tucker 0-4, confirming target's destruction. Nice work." Major Grimm said. "You've eliminated quite the threat. You see, in ten years, Vice Commander of the 7th Destroyer squadron, Tâm Vān Lý, will be in charge of the Erusean Navy...well, _would_ have been, actually." He let out a heavy sigh and through the radio Naomi could hear the distant sounds of the battle she was fighting. "We're going to clean up a little here before we move out. I appreciate the air support. Many thanks to the LRSSG."

"Glad we could help," Long Caster replied, and Naomi had a feeling that they wouldn't be hearing from Major Grimm and Tucker 0-4 for a while. She couldn't imagine what else there was left for them on the ground, but they could use any extra help they could get.

Naomi turned her plane back towards the city, the enemy being quick to reengage and start firing everything they had at her. It started to feel like, for every one target she was shooting down, at least two more showed up and jumped on her. Most of her fighting was sloppy shooting and quick evading to break missile locks, and the hits she made were all by chance. She managed to take out about three fighters on her own that time, but now they were all swarming her, almost trying to corral her while they were in the sky. With some fast, sharp movements she managed to climb above them and keep distance between herself and them to allow her some room to move.

Unfortunately, by now, the _Alicorn_ had chosen to begin launching more of their SLUAVs and Naomi grunted and braced herself as the railgun shell detonated near her and another drone zipped by in its place, making it difficult for her to fight. "Strider 1, hang in there a little longer. Count and Lanza should be back any minute now. Just steer clear of those drones!" Long Caster ordered and Naomi let out a frustrated growl as she tried to outrun the damn drone. "Ten seconds until impact."

"Alright, you know what? I'm tired of this shit," Naomi said. She hit the brakes and tilted the nose of her plane down, sending the SLUAV flying right over her. Knowing that she didn't have much time to do away with it, Naomi quickly switched to her special weaponry and got a lock, firing an SASM at it as quickly as she could. Surprising herself with how quickly she rolled her plane out of its range in case the missile didn't hit, she braced herself for an impact that never came. Relaxing, she searched the skies and found no signs of the UAV. Trying not to let herself get too hopeful, she took a breath and radioed Long Caster. "Long Caster, the UAV has disappeared from radar. Can you confirm that I took it down?"

"Verifying that now...yes! You took it down before the projectile hit!" Long Caster replied and Naomi let out a sigh of relief.

"Whoah, what'd we miss?" Lanza's voice came over the radio as he and Count finally returned to the area, rearmed and ready to fight some more. It seemed he had a tone of both concern and amusement, as neither one of them were sure what they had just walked into. "Sounds like the two of you are celebrating something."

Long Caster seemed more than happy to fill the two of them in. "Trigger shot down one of the UAVs they were using for terminal guidance, and the projectile exploded in the distance," he said. "It's probably a failsafe. It isn't much, but it could prove to be handy. For us, anyways."

"Hey, it may not be much, but it looks like we've got a temporary solution!" Count replied with a chuckle. "Just who're you out to impress today, Trigger?"

Naomi chuckled. "You sound jealous, Count. As usual." Although the teasing comment didn't go unnoticed, he didn't try and defend himself from it so Naomi continued. "Now, I've been waiting for you two to come back and give me a hand. So get over here and let's finish these guys off so we can go home, already. Maybe we can go without any surprises this time, just to finish things off on a good note?"

"Alright, I'll see what we can do about that, Trigger," Long Caster said with an almost exasperated laugh. "In the meantime, all aircraft, follow Trigger's example if you can."

Count scoffed. "Yeah, that's easy for you to say, Long Caster. You're not the one that has to do it!"

"Well, I dunno," Lanza said through a smile. "I'm actually starting to get used to flying like Trigger. I had to just to keep up with her."

Naomi stifled a laugh. "Okay, enough with the flattering. We've got work to do. Count, stay on my wing. Lanza...probably best if you stick with us, too, honestly."

She received no argument from the two of them, who were back at her side within a matter of seconds. The enemy numbers were starting to thin out, so Naomi took it as a good sign. Lanza and Count followed her movements almost perfectly and the three of them worked together to take down the enemy aircraft and did so with ease. The trouble came when the Alicorn decided to send out two UAVs at one time, which made it tricky now that they were tired and outnumbered. Long Caster warned them of the UAVs arrival, and Count broke off without waiting for anyone to tell him otherwise and went straight for the one closest to them. "Damn cowards, shooting us from beyond our range!"

With a frustrated snarl he shot the first one down, right as the second one completed its job of guiding the railgun shell to their location. Count let out a grunt as he evaded, rolling clear. "Gah! I've never felt so cramped in the sky!" Once he'd regained his bearings and regrouped with Naomi and Lanza, he let out an annoyed sigh and asked, "Long Caster, we almost done?"

"One minute left," Long Caster promptly replied.

So without any other argument, they continued to engage the remaining Erusean forces. The three of them split up the remaining four targets, making sure that they were kept away from their wingmen and occupied with Strider Squadron instead. Naomi took them on two on one, which gave them some advantage since they could work together to bring her down. It seemed like they really wanted to, as well, but she was careful to avoid any missiles from them and managed to dodge some of their gunfire. At first it took her a while to get used to their flying and figure out how their movements differed from the squadron before them, but once she had the hang of it Naomi managed to counter their movements much better than she'd done before.

They both tried to hit her head on, but she rolled clear and fired before they did, hitting one of them in the wing. The pilot had no choice but to eject, and left his wingman alone to deal with Naomi. She almost felt bad for him, but the feeling went away once she got her focus on him. Unlike the MiG pilots, the loss of their wingmate affected their performance in the opposite way. Instead, it seemed like he was just giving up and surrendering to his fate. Naomi fired a missile at the plane and it evaded rather lazily, so Naomi tried for some gunfire. However, it appeared that he was just trying to leave the airspace without a fight and it became apparent as to why.

Count and Lanza had finished off his other wingmen, and that left him significantly outnumbered and without a reason to continue fighting. Right now, he was a prime target, but Naomi wasn't about to shoot someone down if they weren't going to fight. Damaged and retreating aircraft got a free pass. She wasn't going to hunt someone down just for the sake of running up her score. The battle was over, and all that remained in the sky were plumes of smoke drifting away in the wind. Naomi turned her plane away from Erusean territory, back towards the bay and the direction they'd come from. Count dutifully took his place at her wing, while Lanza seemed to drift further ahead and do his own thing. He appeared to be performing some celebratory stunts now that he didn't have to worry about getting shot out of the sky.

Over the radio, she heard Wiseman's voice and let up on the throttle, relaxing as he began talking. "Whoo! Well done, Strider! We've managed to hit the Erusean navy's fleet and command structure pretty hard. I take it you all had a nice picnic?"

"Oh, yeah!" Lanza laughed again and Naomi couldn't help but smile along with him. She was discovering that he had an infectious laugh and optimism, much like Tabloid if not more outgoing than he was. He seemed just as proud of their victory as Naomi and Wiseman did. "That was _definitely_ a free lunch, if there ever was one!"

Wiseman let out a small, barely noticeable chuckle. He sounded tired. Or worried. However, any evidence of this was quickly wiped away as it became clear that he was smiling. "Mission complete. Return to base! Withdraw from the operation airspace." He paused for a moment, as if to catch his breath, and then continued. It sounded as if whatever smile he'd been wearing had faded away. "You've completed the mission, but it's not done until you return home. All of you, safe and sound. Just don't do anything stupid on your way back and I'll have no complaints!"

"You hear that, Count?" Naomi asked with a smirk, turning her head so she could get a view of his plane.

"Heh. Arrogant bastards..." Count muttered with a scoff, avoiding answering her question, but it seemed that even he was happy with the situation.

A sudden beeping noise set everyone on edge once again, and Naomi checked her radar as soon as she'd heard it, everyone's lighthearted conversation immediately ceasing. "Long Caster, my radar is picking up something, but I'm not seeing anything," she said, checking over her radar and HUD, even trying to get visual confirmation on something. The clouds were starting to get thicker, though, and if something was coming then she didn't see it. "I thought we cleared the area of hostiles? Did we miss something?"

"Stand by," Long Caster ordered sternly, his tone more serious and focused than it had been a minute or so prior. He knew not to get lazy on the job, but he must not have picked it up as fast as usual. But he was quick to inform them of the update once he'd confirmed the situation. "Warning! Two bogeys, inbound! Bearing 090 Su-47s!"

There wasn't any other aircraft in the skies at that moment, at least none that they could see right away, but their radars managed to pick something up. Count was the first to realize what it was, and to Naomi's surprise he quickly called out to the most vulnerable of the three of them. "Lanza! Missile, behind you! Evade it, dammit!"

It happened in almost the blink of an eye, and none of them were able to react fast enough. There was a streak from a missile that had been fired from long range, and Lanza made a hard turn to evade it, grunting in pain as he did so. In spite of his efforts to turn, the missile made contact and there was a faint thud that Naomi guessed was the explosion. He'd managed to deflect most of the hit, but they must have had some advanced weapons or something as it still took out his left elevator. He was trailing smoke, but he looked like he was still flying.

"LANZA!" Anxiously and immediately, Naomi and Count both called out to him at the same time as they flew right past where he'd been, directly in line of whoever had fired that missile. They put themselves between Lanza and the enemy, at least protecting him from getting hit again, even if it meant they'd be taking fire.

"Strider 3 is hit," Long Caster said, trying to keep his cool.

A new voice came over the radio, but one that Naomi recognized from their last operation. It belonged to a man, and Naomi could tell they'd been listening in on them. He let out a dark chuckle and seemed all too happy about their hit on Lanza. "Good. Now we have less goons to deal with," he said, and the way he said it made Naomi's blood boil. Those bats were there to follow through on their threat, and Naomi could tell that they weren't messing around this time. Knowing they'd almost succeeded probably gave them the extra motivation. To his wingman he said, "Alright, let's do it, Scream!"

What followed was an overjoyed shout from his wingman before their transmission cut out with a burst of static and Naomi was still left wondering how they'd managed to get on Osean channels. Listening in, she could understand, but responding as well? That was a different trick entirely. She quickly tried to set that aside and focused on their new enemy as they turned around to face the two aircraft when they finally came within range. Their Berkuts circled around each other in an overly dramatic display, just like when they'd shown up over Artiglio. Count made it clear how annoyed he was, recalling these psychos just like everyone else was. "Great, it's those damn bats!"

Naomi wasn't about to let them get away with shooting down any of her wingmen, no matter what that crazy woman vowed to do. She switched to her SASMs and began closing the gap between them, radioing Long Caster and Wiseman as she did. "We're covering Lanza's retreat. I'm not letting them shoot any of us down."

"Quick thinking, Trigger," Wiseman responded, much more concerned and angry than he'd been in a while. Naomi wondered if he was frustrated about not being there to help, but he didn't say anything. "Trigger, Count, engage to let Strider 3 escape! We're calling off the withdrawal!"

"Both of you, watch out for their missiles!" Lanza warned them as he began his limp home, sounding audibly shaken by what had just happened. With a shaky breath to get his emotions under control. "The missile alert didn't go off in time! Hit me as soon as I heard it!"

"It may be that the enemy's missiles somehow have stealth capabilities," Long Caster replied, sounding as though he was trying to come up with other alternatives. "That's all we can figure out from the data we have."

"I'm sorry, their missiles have _what_ now?" Naomi asked, bordering snapping, not really liking what she was hearing.

"Uhh...their missiles may hit you immediately after your missile alert goes off," Long Caster said quickly, almost nervously, more explaining himself than answering her question. Although, really, it cleared up the issue. Some. "It'll seem like their missiles come out of nowhere, and its hard to tell from which direction they'll be coming. You'll have to be watching carefully or you won't react fast enough."

"Ah, so that's their trick, huh?" Count said, mostly to himself. He was right behind Naomi, not having left or wavered from her side. "What do you say, Trigger? You ready to show these guys how to fly?"

Naomi, recalling the hit that Lanza had taken and how close they'd come to shooting him down, got ready to face them. "Yeah, I'm ready. Their tricks aren't going to do them much good once we get ahold of them. Let's go, Count! Stay close to me, alright? And don't let 'em hit you!"

"Righto, Trigger. I've got your back," Count said and Naomi was surprised once again by his change in demeanor. He could go from being an ass to being as fierce and loyal as just about any other pilot Naomi had met, and it was actually starting to become normal.

She tried not to think about that as the two of them finally reached the duo, noting that the bats were using the same tricks they had before along with their new, missile stealth thing or whatever. Naomi knew it was more enhanced than it had been before, but there were no new allies coming out of nowhere anymore. No false targets, just them. The only problem was that Naomi was having a hard time getting a solid lock on one of them. She fired when she thought she had it, but the missile zipped past them and they both flew right between Naomi and Count, firing right as they did. Naomi and Count managed to get out of the way in time, and none of them managed to get a hit on the other.

Clemens, after being silent for some time, suddenly spoke up. Hearing his voice was unexpected, and she figured that he'd left wherever he and Wiseman had been monitoring everything from back at the base. Something about the way he was speaking sounded confused and concerned, like someone that had been thrown in the middle of something unexpectedly. "Shit!" he spat, more concerned by their appearance than he had been during their last operation. "Calling out to unidentified aircraft! Cease combat immediately and withdraw!"

"What the hell?!" Count blurted out. "What's he doing?"

"Brigadier General Clemens is radioing enemy aircraft. And on Osean channels!" Long Caster answered, seemingly as surprised as they were.

Naomi wasn't about to let them get away because of that idiot. Not again. Not after what they'd said. She got on their six and fired an SASM. It didn't do much damage, and it barely scratched them, but it sent them a clear warning. One that said she wasn't going to let them leave without a fight. Count chuckled. "Too late, Trigger's already started!" he said, but Naomi didn't smile or feel the need to reply to it. She just had to keep them at a safe distance, and off of Count's tail.

"I repeat, withdraw!" Clemens ordered the bats, sounding more angry and worried with each word.

The voice from earlier came over the radio again, defiant and matching Clemens' anger. "Don't want anyone thinking we screwed up, Brigadier General," the stranger seethed. With a smug laugh, he continued. "Three Strikes is going down!"

"They're responding!" Naomi said, not liking what they had to say any more than she had before.

"You...you goddamned IDIOTS!" Clemens raised his voice, as if the insult would tip the scales in his favor. Yeah, he definitely sounded like McKinsey now.

It was the woman that responded next, rather indignantly thanks to his insult. "Hey! You call me an idiot again, and I'll kill you! You gave up the right to give us orders a while ago, tough guy!"

That seemed to be what got under his skin the most, and Clemens let out a frustrated yell. No real reason other than to get out his anger, it would seem. "FINE! You siblings can go to hell together, then! You're not my problem anymore."

"Brother and sister?" Count seemed surprised that they were related, and even Naomi hadn't quite expected it, but it certainly made sense.

Naomi wasn't about to let herself get distracted though, and she realized that in order to fight them properly then she and Count would have to split up. She didn't want to let him out of her sight in case they went after him, but there wasn't any reason why they couldn't take them one on one. They had to separate them and keep them from working together, since it looked like they were trying to bait them again, sending one in to set the trap and the other to make a move. She didn't know if they could hear now, but there wasn't any other way to communicate her plan. Quickly, and as vaguely as she could, she ordered, "Count, split off. We're going to even out the odds like we did earlier, okay?"

Count took a deep breath, but he didn't argue and understood what she was telling him to do. "Righto." He split off from her, and she made sure that only one of them took off after him, managing to maneuver and start doing the chasing rather than the running. They were skilled though, and whichever one she was after was making sure that she couldn't get a lock. Count was surprisingly on the optimistic side. "There you go, you're on their six! It's two-on-two, Trigger! We can't lose!"

The girl suddenly radioed them, smugly responding to Count's comment. "Sorry, wuss, but you don't count! It's two-on-one!"

Although the siblings found it amusing, Count had the exact opposite reaction. "Hey! Who you callin' a wuss?!"

All that followed was a laugh from the woman, not dignifying Count with a response. It seemed to annoy him, but he continued to try and maneuver against whichever one he was fighting with. Naomi tried a number of things to try and get behind the one she had, but it seemed that they were going back to their aerial dance like they had during their first encounter. She was starting to feel strain from the fight they'd just gone through, and now they had to deal with fresh, extremely motivated pilots that had a clear advantage. Not to mention the fact that they were playing dirty with all the tricks they had. Naomi kinda wished they had the same advantage, but she knew that they could adapt to this with enough time. They just had to hold on long enough.

The aircraft that Count had been tailing suddenly split off from him with an abrupt post stall maneuver that sent them back, over Count's plane so that he was in perfect firing position. But what surprised Naomi wasn't the maneuver, which was the same one — somewhat fancier and more advanced — that Champ had used in Yinshi Valley. No, what surprised her was that the sibling didn't try and take out Count, which made Naomi's brief moment of panic pretty pointless. Instead, the bat came back to try and get her and the sound of her missile alert went off. Grunting, Naomi hurried to evade, having to break off her pursuit of the other one to avoid getting blown out of the sky. "Shit!"

"Come back here, you dirty bat!" Count yelled, immediately turning to resume his previous chase. The two fighters regrouped, ignoring his shout, and seemed to be coming back around for Naomi. Noticing this, Count let out a furious snarl. "They're completely focused on taking you down! What the hell is their problem?!"

"I think our 'problem' is fairly obvious, O'Connor. Or would you prefer Count?" sneered the man from earlier, and Naomi was surprised that they had information on Count's real identity. How'd they even get that information? Had someone leaked the files of all of the pilots of the LRSSG, or were Naomi and Count being singled out? The questions continued to come one after the other, almost in a circle, and as the man continued it only raised more. "Our problem is with your girlfriend, there. Three Strikes is a menace and we're not letting her get away from us again. Once she's out of the way our reputation will soar, and this pointless war will be that much closer to an end."

"You want to shoot down Trigger? You're gonna have to get me out of the way first," Count replied, and Naomi found herself surprised by his declaration. He let out a dry laugh. "Boy, do I pity you poor bastards after you piss her off."

"Oh, goody! I get to chat with the man I'm about to kill!" The woman, that Naomi now figured was the 'Scream' that had been mentioned earlier, let out an almost childlike giggle as she said this. She turned her Berkut towards Count and Naomi and Count were forced to break to get away from her. Scream then began a pursuit of Count, and Naomi didn't know if she was more angry with Scream for singling Count out or if she was angry with Count for being an idiot and egging these nutcases on.

Not about to lose another wingman, Naomi immediately pulled around to chase after Scream, ignoring the other one that would likely jump on the opportunity to take Naomi out. Count, being far more concerned about the guy than Naomi was, rolled to evade a missile from Scream and suddenly seemed determined to outmaneuver Naomi so that she'd stop her own pursuit. "Trigger, they're trying to make you chase one so that the other can get on your ass!" he called out to her. "You're gonna have to watch your own back until we can get the situation under control!"

Naomi sighed, wanting badly to argue with him but realizing that if she continued like she was then they'd both be in danger. She slowed down and broke off her pursuit. "Count, you better not get shot down. And if you do and _that_ doesn't kill you then _I_ will." She expected a comeback from him, but he didn't argue. What he did do was start to take Scream for a ride, countering her movements as best as he could. Naomi trusted him to hold is own in the fight, but it didn't change that she was still worried about him. Regardless of that, though, she needed to work harder to take them down, otherwise Wiseman wouldn't be getting the survival rate he wanted. And it would be her fault.

"Strider 1, we've detected another UAV on radar. It's obviously not your main concern right now, but it's going to make it harder to fight. It's up to whether or not you ignore it," Long Caster spoke up, keeping his cool better than she was. She wondered how he stayed so relaxed all the time, but in her defense he wasn't the one doing the fighting. Naomi wanted to keep fighting the siblings to finish it, but she knew from their first operation in Artiglio that you couldn't attack your primary target when you had a drone trying to fly up your ass. She pulled an evasive maneuver to avoid a set of missiles fired from both siblings at once and headed for the drone. Long Caster seemed confused but he didn't try and tell her not to. "Watch your back, Trigger. If you're going to focus on two things at once then you need to be careful, alright? Dirty tricks aren't all these guys have up their sleeves. They're both ace material."

"Yeah, well, that's not what worries me. They're good, but an ace wouldn't need these tricks," Naomi said, almost to herself. She flew towards the drone at full speed, readying herself to dodge some more missiles. She finally reached the drone, firing a missile head on in hopes of hitting it. It performed an extravagant roll in order to evade and the missile shot right past it. Naomi tried to maintain visual contact on it, reducing her speed too late, and she watched it fly past her canopy. "Argh! Slippery bastard!"

"Detecting shell in flight!" Long Caster warned her. "Ten seconds!"

Naomi was quick to maneuver, trying something similar to her first time trying to shoot the SLUAVs down. She got on its tail, switched weapons, and fired at it. The missile made contact and the drone fell right out of the sky. Her victory was short lived, and after Long Caster confirmed the kill she heard a mocking laugh from one of the bats. "Ha. Worried about the drones much, Three Strikes? If I were you I'd be a bit more concerned about us."

"Shut up and just take her out already, Rage!" Scream's voice followed, starting to sound as tired as Naomi and Count. Apparently she was having some trouble getting a shot on Count. "Damn, this guy has some quick reflexes."

"If you can do it, then so can I!" Count declared, almost proudly, although it was clear that he was struggling to keep it up.

Although another UAV was quick to replace the first one, Naomi ignored it this time and went after the siblings. It was time to finish this, and the longer she dragged it out the longer they'd be here and at risk from those stupid drones. Unfortunately, as soon as she was back in the fight, trying to get Scream off of Count's tail, the other one — Rage, as she now knew him — came after her instead. Every time she managed to line up a shot, they'd fire at the same time and Naomi and Count would both have to evade an incoming missile. Naomi tried to face Rage head on, getting a lock and trying to fire immediately after hearing a solid tone, but he evaded at the last second and let out a mocking laugh. "You almost had me, there!"

"Shit!" Naomi spat. It was impossible to try and coordinate with Count, since these two could hear everything they were saying. There had to be some way, but how? She looked around to get eyes on Count, and he finally got out of Scream's line of fire as the bats dodged the explosion from the railgun shell. Naomi braced herself for the shockwave, and checked to make sure Count was still flying alright. He seemed fine, but it never hurt to check. "You doing alright, Count?"

He answered, albeit slightly out of breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, Trigger. Change your radio frequency so we can talk without them eavesdropping on us."

"I— you..." Naomi stammered for a moment. "Why didn't _I_ think of that?" She heard what sounded like Count holding back a laugh, but he didn't say anything. Considering the situation, a laugh would have been a little inappropriate. Somehow, between the flying and obsessively checking to see where Count was and where the bats were, she managed to change the frequency and hoped it was the same one Count switched over to. She wondered if Long Caster could still hear them, but he wasn't the one that she needed to hear from at that moment. "Count? You there?"

There was a faint warbling sound and then the audio seemed much cleaner and without as much static as they usually got through the radio. "Right...now it's just the two of us on the line." Count's voice finally came over the radio. He let out a sigh and seemed to be trying to talk as quickly as possible. "Trigger, I don't know how much more of this we can take. They're too damn slippery. What I'm going to try to do is use some of their own tactics against them, but I'm going to need you to do whatever crazy thing it is you do to take them down."

She didn't like where this was going. Their own tactics? There were very few that they could use themselves. "Count, when you say you're going to use their tactics against them...you're not about to do what I think you're going to do?" He didn't answer right away, and Naomi took his silence as confirmation. "I'm not going to let you play the bait! Not when _I'm_ the one they want!"

"Trigger! They're looking for a pincer attack, so all we have to do is make it look like they're going to get it," Count replied, raising his voice slightly. "I already told you — _and_ them — that the only way they're getting to you is if they take me out first. You think I want your death on my conscience? Or that I want Wiseman berating me if you go down? We're going to take them out as a team and this is the only strategy I've got, okay? So if one comes for my ass you take 'em down. Now, let's go."

Naomi knew that he was right, but she still wanted to argue with him. And yet she didn't. By the time she figured out what she would have said, Count had already changed his frequency back to the same one that Rage and Scream were on, leaving Naomi in silence for a moment before she switched back as well. Count broke away from Naomi and headed for the siblings again, flying right in front of them and inviting them to come and get him. His plane circled around and it looked as though he was trying to annoy them into chasing him. It seemed that his strategy worked, as Scream asked her brother, "Let's get the wuss, first, Rage! He's getting in my way!"

"Go for it." That was the only permission Rage gave her, seemingly smiling as he did. "We haven't killed outside of a job in a long time."

"Yeah, you're tired of Trigger, aren't you?" Count called out to them with a cocky laugh. "C'mon, let's play!"

Sure enough, the two of them shifted their focus onto him, thinking that they'd have an easy time taking him out. But his goal was to bring them around so Naomi could get a shot, and he did just that. He flew his plane in a wide circle, rolling and climbing and diving just to make sure they were going to stay on him. He turned her way and Naomi banked out of his path and readied herself to jump on the siblings. "Alright, Trigger! We've got 'em hook, line and sinker!" Count called out to her. "Now!"

Their planes shot past and Naomi leapt into the fight, getting a lock and firing before they had a chance to realize what was happening. She switched from her regular missiles to her special weapon, firing a pair of SASMs at whichever one she had. "Strider 1, Fox 3!" she called out. The missile didn't directly hit the plane, but it performed its job and did manage to deal some damage to it. A grunt of pain came from Rage and his plane was starting to trail smoke. Naomi smiled a bit, taking it as a good sign, but right as she prepared to take another shot Rage fired at Count. Naomi felt her stomach drop. "Strider 2, incoming missile! Evade!"

The missile hit Count's plane and Rage let out a laugh as Count cried out in pain. "I'm hit!"

Naomi felt nothing but panic in that moment. "COUNT!" She didn't mean to shout, nor did she realize that she'd raised her voice at all until after she calmed down a bit a few seconds later. Quickly regaining her composure, she lowered her voice but still couldn't keep the worry from it. "Count, you okay?"

He groaned, but was quick to answer her with a laugh. "Well, well, who's the concerned one now?" Although he was trying to tease her, there was some obvious pain in his tone. Naomi was about to tell him to stop with the jokes, but he continued. "I'm flying just fine, so you can stop sounding so worried, Trig."

"You took a hit, Count. I don't want you pushing it, so just pull out. I can handle these clowns on my own," Naomi said, although her voice was shaking. She didn't want to risk his life, and she suspected that they'd jump on him if he tried to retreat, but she wanted him to get out of there. He was the last person she needed to go down and one way or another they were both leaving this place alive. "Please, Count, just leave. Go and wait at base with the others. I'll be fine."

"I'm not leaving you, dumbass!" Count snapped at her. "I've got them right where I wanted. So just relax and we'll be back home in no time."

"Fine. But you better not die, you idiot," Naomi said sternly, knowing that they'd lose their focus if they kept arguing about it.

"Righto, Trigger!" Count said, the pain slowly leaving his voice, and he let out another laugh. He throttled up and headed for the bats again, getting their attention once more. As he did this, he decided to start taunting them over the radio to give them a taste of their own medicine and Naomi couldn't help but roll her eyes at him. "You think that little scratch was gonna stop me? It ain't nothing I can't handle! I'll show you, bunch of amateurs!"

Scream let out an unimpressed huff. "Look, Rage, he's come back for more," she said. "You know, you should really just tell us when it hurts."

"Once Trigger and I get ahold of you, you're the ones that'll be screaming for help!" Count shot back, evading one of their missiles as they started chasing him again. "Ain't no hitman gonna take down Trigger!"

Scream didn't take to well to that, firing another set of missiles at him and forcing him to evade with a pained grunt. She didn't seem quite as pleased as she'd been sounding previously as she warned him through gritted teeth. "You better stop acting so tough if you don't wanna die real fast, _cutie._"

"Go on and try it!" Count growled as he pulled a sharp turn. Naomi had been tailing them since then, trying to get a lock on one of them. She'd already damaged Rage's plane, which meant that he was the easiest to go after. He'd also hit Count, and Naomi wasn't going to let him get away with that. Count was trying to stall them, it seemed, maybe even make them lose their cool with his taunting. Missiles fired from both siblings at once caused Count to dodge at the last minute and he came way too close to being hit than Naomi would have liked. She held back a worried shout, realizing he was okay. It didn't sound like he was, though. "Trigger, just fly however you want! I can keep it up, okay? I'll be right beside you!"

"Count, break off and let me get them!" Naomi desperately said, but even she knew she didn't have a good shot at the moment. These guys were good, and she hated to admit that they were almost better than she was. Maybe they actually were better.

"I'll be right there with you! I promise!" Count replied through clenched teeth as he had to dodge the missile. Naomi, growing tired of playing games and watching Count come close to getting hurt, she prepared herself to take the shot but Count suddenly called out, "Wait! Not yet, Trigger! Just keep going a little longer. I can get you a better shot!"

It didn't seem that that moment would ever come, and they continued to chase them. Naomi managed to get a couple of hits in, but they were only grazed by it. Between chasing them, and evading the Alicorn's drones, Naomi was starting to get more and more nervous and frustrated. Count was tired, and hurt, and every missile the bats fired was getting closer and closer to hitting him. Another hit and he'd be done for. Naomi was exhausted, and she was having a hard time breathing. She'd never felt like this before, except maybe after she faced Mr. X in Yinshi Valley. She just wanted it to be over, and she was tired of playing this game. Not to mention, she was running low on missiles. It wouldn't be long before she'd be out.

"You're not retreating, and neither are we!" Rage said suddenly, as if he thought that Count was trying to exhaust them. That could have been a good strategy, too, but it would take too long. They wouldn't have much fuel left. Rage declared, "We end this here, right now!"

"Yeah? Well we're gonna be the last ones flying!" Naomi snapped at him. All that was met with that was a laugh from Rage.

"Strider 1, shoot them down! Now!" Clemens, after having said absolutely nothing since the start of the dogfight, finally decided to speak up. And at the worst possible moment, too. When they were done here, Naomi had a few things she wanted to say to him.

Count, on the other hand, went ahead and let the brigadier general know his opinion right then and there. "Please, just shut up! Asshole..." He made a hard, abrupt turn to dodge an explosion from a railgun shell as soon as they heard Long Caster announce it over the radio, seeming more anxious than either of them were. It seemed as though he was getting ready to get them into a good position, but Naomi guessed he wanted to have a little more fun with them. "Wait...you guys are PMC, aren't you? That's how you have contacts in the Osean military. Contacts like Clemens."

Rage laughed, dodging some gunfire from Naomi as she tried to get a hit on them with that. "Haha! You'll have to shoot us out of the sky if you want the answer!"

"That's fine by me!" Count called out, suddenly raising his nose and gaining altitude. He brought them around before Naomi could even react, so she would be hitting them head on. She barely had time to think and realize what he was doing before he called out, "Here they come! Batter up, Trigger!"

Naomi got a lock on one of them, and she was actually able to maintain it. She switched to her special weapon and fired. The SASM hit Rage's wing and he let out a surprised shout as the wing was ripped off by the missile, and he lost control of the plane. It began to spiral downward, and Rage growled with frustration. "What the hell?! GAH! THREE STRIKES!"

"And you're out?" Naomi guessed, understanding his frustration and almost feeling bad. He didn't say anything to that, just letting another, wordless, furious shout at her.

His sister's plane broke off her pursuit of Count and Scream proved that she lived up to her name, letting out a distressed cry as she began to dive and try and follow her brother. As if she could do anything about it. "RAAAAGE! NO!" The cry hurt Naomi's ears, and she wondered if Scream's throat was raw after that.

Rage regained his senses and seemed suddenly calm. "No, you idiot! Stay focused and take down Three Strikes—" His transmission cut to static and his plane burst into flames. Naomi wondered if he bailed out, but she didn't see a chute. He...was dead.

Although at first Naomi didn't feel too bad about it, knowing that he'd tried to kill Count and that it was him or them, but Scream began to call after him. "I told you not to call me an idiot!" she practically sobbed, sounding as though she was fighting back tears. Naomi felt a pang of guilt at how pitiful she sounded, as though someone had just ripped off her arm. It was pained and scared and sad all at once, and yet somehow Naomi felt a growing tension and anger as Scream turned her plane towards Naomi and Count, but was turned a bit more towards Count's direction. If she wanted to join her brother, then Naomi would have no choice but to give that to her. She wasn't going to let Count take another hit.

Count snapped Naomi out of her thoughts. "Only one left! We run 'em down together!" he said, and Naomi took a deep breath. He added, "But the death blow will be from you, Trigger. I'll try and keep up with you, though, until the end of this."

Scream, although facing them without hesitation, didn't sound as confident as she seemed as she began to fly in a more chaotic and yet less aggressive way, haphazardly firing everything she had. Naomi and Count broke off in opposite directions as she flew between the two of them. "No! I can't do this alone!" she cried and Naomi felt another stab of guilt as she brought her plane around in a half circle to try and get a lock on her. Scream's flying was different than before, and her attacks seemingly without a purpose now. "I can't do anything! Not on my own..."

"Trigger, what're you doing? You've got a shot! Hurry up and take it!" Count snapped at her as he tried to get a hit on Scream, and Naomi did the same. They were chasing her together, now, and Naomi had several moments to fire. But she didn't. Why didn't she?

"Don't let the enemy's emotions make you lose your cool!" Long Caster warned. "Think fast! Both of you! And be careful!"

"He was real smart, you know that?! We both tried to be heroes, we really tried, Three Strikes!" Her sobbing suddenly changed. It faded from sobbing to laughter, and there was a weird, ear piercing sound over the radio. Naomi had no idea what it was, but she barely heard her missile alert go off thanks to it, and dodged at the last minute. The Alicorn fired a railgun shell nearby at the exact moment, and Naomi felt as though the skies were going to come down on top of her. One of Scream's missiles hit her, and Naomi bit her tongue and grunted as it did so. It grazed her, but she still wouldn't be able to take another hit. Scream began laughing hysterically, still sobbing as well. "I don't want to live! And if I'm going to die then I'm going to take you and that wuss with me, Three Strikes! You hear me?! I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU BITCH!"

"You psycho!" Count scoffed as he watched her fly past him, just trying to tease them at this point. "The girl's gone from crazy to bonkers!"

"Strider 2, the enemy is tracking you on radar!" Long Caster called out, and Naomi got her focus back as soon as he said that. Scream was going after Count first, and Naomi wasn't going to let her get away with it.

Count grunted, evading at the last second, and Naomi was pushing her engine to its limit at this point. She already knew that she'd be getting an earful from Avril and probably Bandog, but right now that didn't matter. As Scream continued to pursue Count, Naomi stayed glued to her tail, getting as many hits as she could. Scream grunted as Naomi fired and managed a hit on Scream's tail. Every time she tried to fire at Count, Naomi made sure to fire first and throw her off the target to give Count time to get away. Naomi let out a furious shout, and made it clear that the same anger Scream felt was what Naomi felt now. "Hurt him and _I'll_ kill _you_! You freaking maniac!"

"Just kill me already, Three Strikes! JUST GET IT OVER WITH!" Scream yelled, and Naomi gritted her teeth and fired all that she could at once, both regular missiles and then a pair of SASMs. She prepared herself for another hit, feeling her heart pounding and her blood roaring in her ears, but Scream let out a choked sob and her plane began to trail smoke from just about everywhere as her plane began to plummet down to the ocean below. Naomi's plane flew underneath Scream, and she regrouped with Count.

"That's a hit! You got the bat, Trigger!" Long Caster called out.

"Take that, asshole!" Count called out.

Naomi was panting now, desperately trying to catch her breath and calm down. She was still mad, but the anger was ebbing away. She heard Scream's laughing starting to die down, becoming more subdued. Eventually the laughter stopped entirely and was replaced by nothing but crying. She was broken, with nothing else to fight or live for, and she barely had a chance to grieve. Long Caster hadn't given up on her yet, and calmly radioed her, "Unidentified aircraft, eject."

"No..." Scream replied through a shaky breath.

"Eject, _now_!" Long Caster ordered, more sternly this time and raising his voice slightly. Naomi winced as she heard it, knowing that Scream wasn't going to do it.

"NO!" Scream snapped back, but there was something, maybe gratitude, in her voice. She was speaking through sobs as she continued, "I...I know it was meant to end like this. And I know that Rage is going to heaven, so I'm gonna be all alone again in hell..." Through the sobs, she gritted her teeth and spat at Naomi, "I'll be waiting for you down there, Three Strikes." She let out a sudden, almost pained gasp, "Three Strikes! I—"

Her transmission was cut to static and there was a familiar crashing sound shortly before. Naomi knew what that meant, but Long Caster confirmed it regardless. "The bat's blip has disappeared from our radar. At that altitude...it likely has crashed."

"We did it, Count...are you okay?" Naomi asked, turning her plane back the way they came. They could go home, now.

"Yeah. I don't pity those two one bit, though," Count said with an uneven breath as they both slowed their speed, flying alongside one another. "It serves them right."

"Yes. It seems the problem has been eliminated," Clemens said with a relieved sigh, and Naomi knew that the whole problem had not been eliminated. "Return to base. The operation is completed now."

Naomi didn't feel too happy with their victory, but she was happy that Count and the rest of her squadron was safe and now they could leave this place. "Come on, Count. Let's go home."

* * *

Author's Note: _I am so, so, so sorry that this took so long and I am so sorry that this chapter is...insanely long. I would have cut it in half, but I'm too stubborn to do that and left it as one. As for how long it took, the year got off to a crazy start for me, but the next chapter will hopefully be out before the month is over. That being said, I wish you all a very late happy new year and hope 2020 treats everyone alright!_

_Special thanks to Skylinneas and UltraBooster who gave me some references for the dialogue in the fight with Rage and Scream! Thanks guys!_


	32. Double-Crossed

Chapter Thirty-One: Double-Crossed

|...|...|...|

**Anchorhead Bay, Erusea.**  
_**September 10th, 2019.**_  
**1705hrs.**

|...|...|...|

Torres paced the bridge of the _Alicorn_, looking at the feed the drones had picked up and surveying the damage Three Strikes had inflicted upon the bay. He resisted the urge to chuckle, noting that the Erusean's stubbornness and ego had been their downfall. To think it had been one of their own that had given this information to a foolish, young Osean officer that was too eager to please and unfitting of his rank. Three Strikes had a price on her head that everyone, including her own countrymen, were eager to claim. This battle had been meant as a death sentence for both the Erusean fleet and for the Osean squadron. And yet it seemed that she and her men escaped death once again. Funny how that worked out.

As the crew clambered about, preparing to dock and resupply their mighty ship, Torres turned his attention to a computer that displayed a different video feed. Patiently waiting was Torres' old friend and shipmate, Edgar Saxon. Graying dark brown hair and blue eyes became him, and he still was very neat and well-dressed. Not much had changed in the last few years. Even at the bottom of the ocean he was still very prim and proper for a war-hardened Navy man. The man monitoring the computer moved aside, and Edgar straightened up as Torres approached. He greeted him with a quick, stiff nod. "Captain. It seems that everything went as it was supposed to."

"Yes, _exactly_ as it was supposed to," Torres replied, still fighting a smile or a dark chuckle. "Meet us at the drop-off point. Three Strikes has removed all straggler Erusean forces, so I'd say everything is clear. The city's mostly empty now." He finally allowed the smile as he saw one creep onto Edgar's face, though he held back the laugh. Torres glanced over his shoulder at where his crew was preparing the sub to surface, then looked back at Edgar. "That did make for a good sideshow..."

Edgar chuckled, tilting his head back slightly and relaxing in his seat a bit. "I have no doubt that the Plan to Save Ten Million Lives will lead Erusea to true victory."

"Stop thinking so small." Torres tried his hardest not to snap, but he couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice. It was so much more than just that. It wasn't just ten million. There were many lives they could save by ending this war once and for all, maybe even ending all wars once and for all. If they just managed this, then everyone would finally know. They'd finally learn. "It's salvation on a far grander scale than that. The victory won't belong to Erusea, it will belong to the world and to generations that fought before us and those that will come after us."

"I'm sorry, sir. I keep forgetting to look at the bigger picture." Edgar seemed almost guilty, but it didn't last long as he came up with something else to discuss. "I've been meaning to tell you something. There's a rumor going around in the military, that's caused quite a stir from what I can tell." He lowered his voice a bit, adopting a more somber tone. "'Three Strikes in the sky is a sign of an ill omen.' It's weird, since for most of the Oseans she's the exact opposite."

Torres scoffed. "Three Strikes...she lacks the drive." He began pacing in a small line, back and forth in front of the screen. It earned him some worried and disgruntled looks from the crew, all of whom could tell that another one of his speeches was coming. He didn't care. After a moment, he found the right words and quickly continued, "Alright, imagine you're just about to be killed. Why am I going to be killed, you ask. It's because they wanted to steal from you, to torment you, to burn you, to cut you apart!" Torres began to raise his voice, becoming more and more passionate about the topic, hoping that it would make a greater impact and get his point across. "It was for your sins, your actions, your vengeance! There _has_ to be a reason for the things that you do and for the actions you take against others. An eye for an eye! Three Strikes is a small piece to a much bigger picture, taking orders from others. She has no meaning behind her actions or behind her work. Nothing to fight for. She has NONE OF THAT!" He paused to catch his breath and cleared his throat. "_I_, on the other hand, do."

"Of course, sir. I wasn't doubting your abilities," Edgar said with an apologetic look on his face. His eyes lit up. "Now that you mention drive and vengeance, then it might interest you to know a bit more about Three Strikes' heritage. That is, assuming you're interested. I figure that if Osea continues to deploy such a nuisance to the front lines, especially as a desperate last resort once our goal has been completed, then I could give you some extra motivation against her. To make it a bit more interesting, in the long run. Are you interested?"

"I already have a good enough reason to fight against her. She's a murderer and she's getting in the way of my plans," Torres said, regaining his calm composure. He sighed, but he couldn't hide that he was intrigued. "But, if you have the time, then why not?"

"Well, you remember Mobius One, do you not? ISAF's ace? The Ribbon Fighter? The Grim Reaper?" Edgar asked, listing off just about every alias that the pilot was known by.

Torres bristled, well aware of Mobius One. It was that pilot that had sent his ship to the ocean, and what set off his realization that someone had to take action. In a way he could thank him, but he'd lost much more than he'd gained thanks to ISAF and that worthless, coward of a pilot. "Yes, I know who he is," Torres said shortly. "What's your point?"

Edgar kept a straight face, picking up a pen and fidgeting with it as he spoke. "Well, he was known to Erusea by many, many names, was he not? But there's one name that we weren't aware of until recently. Some more Osean traitors from their upper ranks came forward, just like with the leaked intel on Three Strikes' identity," he said, and Torres raised an eyebrow, studying the somewhat distorted face in the screen for any evidence that he was pulling his chain. He seemed dead serious about it though. "As it turns out, that Belkan terrorist — Solo Wing Pixy — came from a long line of aces...a line which he continued. He and his family dropped off the radar during the Circum-Pacific War, but as it turns out not only is Three Strikes his daughter and youngest child...but Mobius One is his second born _and_ his only son."

It was unexpected news. Torres was stunned for a moment, unable to find the words to respond for several seconds. He balled his hand into a fist, reliving the first time he got a good look at the Grim Reaper up close. The first time he knew that he was one of the targets of that pilot was a different story. A different feeling. For years he wondered about the identity of this man. This coward that struck defenseless targets without any warning. Judging from today's battle, it was a family trait. They fought without honor. At least they didn't gun down retreating aircraft. As far as he knew, anyways. Still, to learn the two were related...let alone that their father was an infamous traitor and mercenary. It took a moment to really register it all.

He shook his head, then put on a small smile. "Well, that is interesting. It does definitely up the stakes a bit, now doesn't it? I get revenge for the destruction of my ship and this disgusting war comes to an end, all on the same day..." Torres chuckled again. "I appreciate your help. That was some valuable information. We won't have long to talk, but I'll discuss what I can while we're there. I'd prefer if we had some privacy to discuss our next course of action when it comes to the Oseans."

"Of course, sir," Edgar said. "I'm happy to have been able to help."

Without any proper goodbye, those few words being enough for the two of them, and the video cut off to static. Torres allowed the crewman to go back to his post, and returned to his own position. His command duty officer seemed more anxious than usual, glancing Torres' way a couple of times. At last, he voiced what was on his mind. "Now that you know of the connection between Three Strikes and Mobius One, does that change anything? Is she a higher priority target now?"

Torres thought for a moment. "She's always been a high priority target. Once she's out of the way, our troubles practically disappear," he said. "But now, this entire plan has become so much more than it originally was. It was always going to be a rare work of art but now...now it's a masterpiece. An intricate, perfectly thought out masterpiece of a plan. And I for one can't wait."

* * *

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
**1800hrs.**

"You bastard!"

The door to the briefing room was flung open, so hard that it was a wonder it didn't fly off the hinges. Naomi and Húxiān were the first through the door, both women on the warpath, and their target already knew what he'd done. Clemens turned away from the screen, his eyes widening as Húxiān made a move for him. The ones that stayed behind barely had any idea what was going on, but the sudden surge in activity and emotion caught their attention and everyone tensed up. Bandog stood by the door with Sarge on leash, and the guard dog sprang to her feet and began to bark and add to the chaos in the room as Húxiān crossed the room, trying to pull Bandog down in order to reach Clemens before Húxiān. He had more success in holding Sarge back than Húxiān had of reigning in her temper.

Everyone except for Naomi and Count stepped in to try and stop Húxiān from reaching the brigadier general, Wiseman and Jaeger being the first ones, quickly followed by Skald and then Fencer. Lanza didn't try and stop her, simply trying to reach his seat with the cold drink he'd gotten on their way over, but he got caught in the middle of it and had no choice but to try and pull Húxiān back like the others. Naomi was perfectly willing to let her rough Clemens up, but unfortunately the older pilots didn't share the sentiment. Hell, if Húxiān hadn't tried it first then Naomi would be the one they were holding back. She wanted to see that bastard answer for whatever he'd done.

"Húxiān, NO!" Jaeger shouted as he tried to shove Húxiān back, pushing her towards the seats.

"Cut it out!" Skald grunted. "Stop it!"

"Hey, would you chill?!" Lanza snapped as he managed to drag her into the row of chairs, his soda slipping out of his hands and falling to the floor, adding the sound of glass shattering to the already hectic atmosphere. That was when he let go of Húxiān, his jaw dropping and his eyes widening. His brow furrowed and he plopped into his seat with a look on his face that was a mix of shock and anger.

"Húxiān, stand down!" Wiseman growled and Húxiān stopped fighting once she realized how angry Wiseman was, brought out of her fury long enough for him to shove her down into the chair. "Now SIT! And calm down!"

She sat there next to Lanza, crossing her arms with a furious look on her face as Fencer sat beside her, and then Skald on Lanza's other side. Avril, Tabloid, and Tailor exchanged a confused look and everyone seemed focused on Húxiān at that moment. Lanza crossed his arms as well and scowled, slouching in his chair. "Shit," he said, glancing towards Húxiān with a look almost as murderous as hers. "My cola..."

In spite of his apparent grief about the loss of his drink, one stone cold look from Húxiān shut him up and the two of them sat in silence, practically pouting like children as they did so. Bandog finally settled Sarge down, her barking finally cut off and she let out a frustrated whine and settled down at his feet. Everyone else settled down, but Naomi was still angry and Wiseman wasn't about to let another incident with Húxiān happen. He walked over to her, Naomi's father behind him. Jaeger stood by Húxiān to make sure that she didn't get up again and Long Caster was keeping Clemens occupied. Naomi's father looked more worried than he did angry, having stayed out of the confrontation with Húxiān as a last line of defense for Clemens.

Naomi wished they'd just let Húxiān have at him, then she could go for the guy. If he was involved with those bats, and it sounded like he was, then Naomi wanted him to get what was coming. He'd been responsible for Lanza and Count getting hit. He may not have been responsible for Húxiān and her injuries, but Count and Naomi were pretty banged up from the fight. Naomi and Count stood their ground as Wiseman and Naomi's father approached her, Count having stayed by Naomi's side since they'd landed at base. Naomi would have been lying if she said that she didn't want him there, but at the same time she didn't want him on his feet if he didn't have to be. Naomi huffed as Wiseman approached, asking a silent question with the pointed look he gave her. "You heard the conversation he had with those bats, Wiseman. Long Caster heard it. We all heard it. You may have stopped Húxiān, but if you don't do something about him then _I'm_ going to do something about it. And you're not gonna be able to stop me."

"I get it, you're pissed off, but we can't just jump on the guy like that!" Wiseman said, keeping his voice low so that Clemens couldn't overhear them.

"You're standing up for the guy, Wiseman? Seriously?" Count said with a scoff, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. Why not let us confront him, give the son of a bitch a chance to defend himself."

"We're not defending him," Naomi's father said quickly and calmly. "That analyst guy has something for us, and Bandog overheard something while he was here. We're going to give him a chance to defend himself, but he can't do that if you knock the guy unconscious."

Naomi opened her mouth to object, but Wiseman raised a hand. "We're not letting him get away with it. Trigger, Count, you go and sit down. Now. Let's get this debriefing over with and that way we can take things one problem at a time. You two can't just run head first into every situation." The two of them knew he was right, and looked away from him, trying to calm themselves down a bit. Wiseman's expression and voice softened a bit. "Go sit down and relax. You've had a rough day, so take it easy for a few minutes. And don't try anything."

"Yes, sir..." Naomi muttered, and she and Count took a seat at the front of the room, Wiseman and Jaeger joining them seconds later. Although Clemens looked a bit smug, Naomi and Count made it clear that he wasn't off the hook, glaring at him as he looked their way. He could have gotten Count and Lanza killed, and Naomi couldn't care less about what would have happened to her. Clemens, however indirectly, had hurt her wingmen and by extension he'd made an enemy out of her. He wasn't getting off easy. There wasn't a chance in hell that she was going to let that happen. If it cost her the rank she had, then so be it. Her career didn't matter, but her squadron did.

Clemens looked at Wiseman with a look of warning, as if reminding him to keep them in check, and then began the debriefing without a single word on the matter. "The fleet at Anchorhead was eliminated, and we've prevented the submarine from joining forces. Those unidentified aircraft that caused some trouble during our last operation were shot down too," he said quickly, as if he was in a hurry to leave the room. As if his behavior wasn't suspicious enough as it was. "In spite of a few bumps along the way, and a couple of unexpected turns, the mission was a complete success."

"Yeah, right. Complete success, my ass!" Húxiān snapped at him, her anger still not satisfied, but she stayed where she was instead of trying to hit him again.

"Brigadier General, it sure seemed to me like the bats knew you pretty damn well," Count said, almost challenging him with the way he said it. His face seemed stuck in a scowl, like just about everyone else in the room.

Clemens shot him a look, knowing full well what Count was implying with that comment. It looked as though he was fighting a smirk, maybe thinking that he was going to get away with this. "You seem to be confused, Lieutenant. You took a couple of hits, so you could be suffering from a concussion. Report in for a medical check," Clemens ordered, feigning concern for Count's wellbeing. "We'll decide if you're still fit for service based on the examinations. A psych check is in order as well. Judging from your record, you weren't fit to begin with. There's no wonder you're paranoid and looking for someone else to blame for your missteps."

With the comment, Count sprang up from his seat and Naomi, Wiseman, and Jaeger were quick to follow. He almost managed to reach Clemens as the brigadier general scrambled backwards, almost cowering behind Long Caster. Jaeger and Wiseman caught his arm and Naomi put herself between Count and Clemens, not wanting Count to get in any trouble over this. Count seemed shocked that she tried to stop him, and he didn't try and fight his way past her, allowing Wiseman to yank him back into his seat. Jaeger pushed on his shoulder so that he fell back into his seat, and Jaeger made sure he stayed there while Wiseman raised his voice and ordered, "Cut it, Count!"

"Trigger, sit down," Jaeger ordered Naomi with a curt nod, prepared to drag her into her seat like he'd helped Wiseman do to Count. Naomi reluctantly sat down, and Jaeger took a deep breath. "That's enough of this crap."

Clemens looked to Bandog, who had moved a bit closer so he could be in on the conversation and action. Just about everyone seemed to be holding their breath, and Clemens looked furious and scared, similar to how he'd looked when Húxiān had burst in earlier. "Somebody get the MP!" he ordered quickly, glancing nervously down at Sarge. "_Now_! Before one of them does something they'll regret."

"_He's right. Get the MP._" A new, unfamiliar voice filled the room and everyone turned toward the screen. Long Caster stepped away from the computer, and it was only then that they noticed that he'd connected a call to David and another person that Naomi didn't recognize. Two new windows popped up on the screen, showing David on one and a clearly high ranking Osean officer sitting in a very fancy looking office. The Osean flag was in the background, and it looked like an office at Bright Hill or some other building in the capital. The man in question was older, probably in his sixties, in an Osean dress uniform. His hair was gray and his eyes were brown, and he was looking right at Clemens with a very disappointed look on his face.

It was obvious that Clemens recognized the man, and the anger faded from his eyes and his expression. There was nothing but panic there now as he whirled around to face the screen. He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, maybe even close to tears as he stumbled over the right words to say. Almost as if he was looking for a defense or an explanation for his actions. He was in trouble for real, now, and he knew it. At last, he just blurted out the man's name. "Vice Chairman Edwards...of the Joint Chiefs of Staff?!" After that he began trying to keep his cool, but he came across sounding like a fraud and a coward. "I...sir, I'm sorry. I didn't know that we were to be expecting a call from you. If I'd have known then this situation would be under control already. It's just a minor problem...nothing to worry about!"

"_Minor?_" Edwards echoed with a frown. "_This is only part of a much bigger problem._" The authority in his voice was scary, so much so that Naomi felt like she was in trouble. She stayed perfectly still, and so did just about everyone else, none of them having expected somebody this important to be directly involved with this. Monitoring things from afar, yes, but not actually calling them. He continued, his voice making it evident that he was less than pleased with the operation's outcome. "_The _Alicorn_ slipped into Anchorhead Bay after the mission was completed, using the confusion for cover. It resupplied quickly and escaped unharmed. Their goal was not to join forces. It was to resupply while using the window that we created by chasing away the Erusean forces. We did their bidding, albeit unknowingly. But our problem runs deeper than our lack of tactical acumen. Analyst North, explain for us._"

David didn't have to be ordered twice, happily stepping in to shed some light on the subject. "_Of the crew caught in the submarine accident, three-hundred and thirty men made it back alive. Of them, three hundred are still on the sub today,_" he explained quickly, no indication that he was surprised or angry in his voice or expression. "_Our intel has led us to believe that all or some of the men that left the sub are now working as agents for the _Alicorn_. Sabotage, espionage, cyber propaganda, dissemination of false intel..._" David began to list things off, counting off his fingers as he did so. Then he stopped and focused on Clemens. "_Brigadier General, do you recognize the name Edgar Saxon — or Zul, as he used to go by?_"

Clemens didn't answer, but a suddenly guilty look appeared on his face and David took that as his answer while Edwards drew in a deep breath. David went on. "_He is a former member of the _Alicorn's_ crew. And _your_ source of intel,_" he said.

"_You are a _fool_, Brigadier General Clemens,_" Edwards said, each word sounding as though it was being forced out which got across how angry the man was without him losing his cool. Clemens looked like a child that was being scolded in public, and everyone kept their eyes trained on him. Edwards went on, glancing at Naomi and the others as he did. "_Not only that, but the radio communications during the mission suggest that you are a traitor._"

Finally, Clemens had a chance to defend himself, but his heart just didn't seem into it. "Sir, if you check with Lieutenant General Shepherd, you'll understand that this is all just a misunderstanding!"

"_The Lieutenant General is now under investigation and claims that _you_ were responsible for handling all aspects of the mission,_" Edwards replied, looking tired of hearing Clemens' excuses. They were very poor ones at that. He waited for Clemens to try and continue defending himself, but even Clemens seemed to realize that he was defeated. Edwards, wanting to put an end to it, repeated his order from earlier. "_Now, let me say that again. Get the MP._"

Bandog started to move towards Clemens, but Húxiān was already standing up. "No need for that," she declared, walking right over to him. The color drained from his face as he seemed to realize what was about to happen as he turned to face Húxiān. "Piece of shit!" Without even grabbing him to make sure he didn't try and run off, and with no one stopping her this time, Húxiān threw a hard punch and her fist connected with his jaw. There was a very loud, very painful sounding thud and Clemens sank down to the floor. Húxiān backed off and Naomi decided to step in now, wanting her chance to get back at him for screwing them over.

Clemens remained on the floor, rubbing his jaw and groaning in pain. Naomi closed the gap between them and grabbed onto Clemens by his jacked, pulling him onto his feet so they were at the same level. Granted, he was taller than her and basically dead weight, so it wasn't the easiest feat in the world. He let out a surprised gasp as Naomi dragged him to the nearest wall and roughly shoved him against it, his head hitting it as she did so. Perhaps she was going to get in trouble, but if Húxiān got to rough the guy up then Naomi deserved a chance to do it. His lip was split and bleeding and his jawline was visibly red, and now he'd have some more pain to accompany it. She didn't care though. She was going to finish what Húxiān started.

Briefly debating letting him know what she thought about him with words, she figured she should just go ahead and get her anger out. They could talk later. Nobody made a move to stop her, except for Sarge's frustrated barking at being unable to join in on the action. Naomi lifted her knee up and rammed it into Clemens' gut as hard as she could, causing him to double over in pain. May have been a cheap shot but it got him where she wanted him. He tried to recover, looking up at her with his face contorted with pain. It almost looked as if he was about to start crying. Naomi glanced over her shoulder at Count and Húxiān and Lanza, noting how beat up they were and remembering how badly that interaction with the bats could have been. She looked back at Clemens, trying to calm her breathing.

For just a minute, she let him think he was free. She let go of his dress jacket, which was now wrinkled to go along with his rather beat up and disheveled appearance. Just as he cleared his throat and tried to play it cool, Naomi balled her fist as tight as she could and hit him as hard as she possibly could with a furious yell. Already up against the wall, his head hit it again and he cried out in pain as he fell to the floor, bringing a hand up to his face to try and ease the pain that both Naomi and Húxiān had caused him. He was lying there and Naomi wanted to continue her assault. She wanted to just kick him and back him into a corner and let him feel the same terror that she felt during that dogfight, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Before she could stop second guessing her decision and just give in to her anger, she felt someone grab her wrist and turned around to see Count standing beside her. Húxiān stood on her other side, still fuming but obviously thinking that the guy had learned his lesson. Naomi took a shaky breath and looked over at Count and then back down at Clemens. Her father and Wiseman were staring at her with shock and maybe even worry on their faces. But as equally angry as Count looked, something about his touch was calming. Sending another disgusted look to Clemens, she relaxed and let out a heavy sigh, allowing Count to drag her back and away from Clemens.

Bandog stepped in, keeping a tight leash on Sarge, and forced Clemens onto his feet, dragging him from the back of his shirt like it was nothing. "C'mon, you worthless bastard. Let's get you out of here before they decide to kill you...funny how I'm the one dragging you off to prison now, isn't it Brigadier General?" In spite of his words, there wasn't any real concern for Clemens and what would happen to him. He nodded to Wiseman and the others and left the room. Bandog was likely going to take him to the brig himself, with Sarge there to make sure he didn't try anything. Naomi noticed that there was something a bit too eager and pleased about the situation in his eyes as he passed them, though.

Naomi looked at her father, finally starting to calm down and feeling embarrassed for getting so aggressive. In a way it seemed pointless, now, but at that moment she just wanted the guy to hurt. And it was starting to scare her. One look at Avril, Tabloid, and just about everyone else told her that she might have taken a step too far. Her entire body was shaking, and she regretted what she'd done the slightest bit, but it had helped her get that anger out. Maybe not in the best way. She looked over at the screen, where Edwards and David were watching on, surprised looks on their faces. David's expression was a bit more thoughtful, but Edwards was better at hiding whatever he was feeling. Outside of the obvious, of course.

"Er...Vice Chairman..." Naomi began nervously, staying beside Count as she spoke. She felt a lot like she had after Yinshi Valley, if not in less pain and a bit more lucid. It seemed Count had picked up on this and didn't stray away from her. She was grateful for that, but she didn't want to seem entirely helpless and took a small step away from him. Edwards was watching her and listening intently, and she found the words to continue, glancing at Wiseman and her dad. "Vice Chairman, I apologize for that. It wasn't very becoming of a military officer, but I hope you can understand where I'm coming from. And, in my defense, it did help restrain him."

Edwards studied her for a moment, then continued with a shrug and an almost disinterested tone. "_I've read your file, Captain Foulke. Yes, I know where you and a handful of your squadron mates have been, and yes, I can see where you're coming from,_" he said quickly. "_Under normal circumstances, it doesn't excuse assault on a superior officer. The same for you, Lieutenant Hirose_." His eyes flicked towards where Húxiān was standing, just barely in his view. Edwards sighed and continued. "_However, given the revelations, Clemens' actions, and the fact that you two were acting on behalf of your squadron...I'm not going to demand that you be reprimanded. I am required to give you a warning, though. Do not make this a common occurrence._"

Both Naomi and Húxiān were relieved to hear that, and thanked him. Edwards didn't want to stick around for small talk, though. "_I'll be taking my leave, now. Analyst North, this is back in your hands. I'll send any word if something comes up, though,_" he said to them. And without another word, he hung up, leaving them all in silence for a few minutes.

It was a good five minutes before Tabloid unexpectedly broke the silence. "Well...that happened."

David began to speak next, looking a bit uncertain. "_Yeah...that was rather unexpected. Probably one of the most exciting things I've ever done...I feel like I could run a marathon right now!_" He chuckled, but no one else quite shared in his enthusiasm. It didn't bother him, though, and he shrugged off their lack of reaction. "_But, it's been a long day and I still have a lot of work to get done before it's over. I'm going to look into who those mercenaries were if I have the time. And might I suggest interrogating the brigadier general once you get the chance? It's possible he might not be alone in this, and if what that guy...erm...the guy with the dog? Bandog! If what he said he heard is true, then we might have some more problems in our chain of command that we need to take care of. I'll be in touch!_"

"Goodbye, David. Thanks for the help," Wiseman said, and Long Caster ended the call as Wiseman motioned for him to do so. After that, they fell back into a period of silence before Wiseman let out a sigh. Thankfully the awkward moment only lasted a few seconds thanks to him. "Well, I figure that's enough excitement for today. Everybody get some rest now. And as uncaring and foolish as Brigadier General Clemens is, he did present a very good point earlier. I want everyone from Strider Squadron to report to the doctor and let the people over at the infirmary check you out. I'm not gonna bar you from flying, but you're all pretty banged up and you're going to need some time to recover. So go on, now. And that means you too, Trigger."

Naomi gave him a surprised, almost offended look. And she wanted to argue with him, even if she sounded like a child. "I...but I'm not hurt. Count and Húxiān are the ones that got it the worst. And Lanza, too. I'm fine."

It was her father that replied, giving her a soft smile as if he thought it would bring her around. It actually did. "Naomi, humor him. At the very least, maybe they could do something for your nerves."

"C'mon, Trig," Count said with a sigh, finally moving away from her and leading the way to the door. Húxiān followed, and Lanza quickly stood up. Naomi didn't move, though, worried that the doctor would find an excuse to keep her on the ground. Count stopped and looked back at her. "You coming or not."

"I'll...I need a minute to catch my breath. You guys go on ahead," Naomi said, just wanting to sit and think for a bit. She felt like she needed to talk to somebody, and she would have liked to have a minute to speak with Count, but she wasn't going to get it then. She needed a break. "Just go, Count. You three need the doctor more than I do."

"Alright, suit yourself," Count said, going back to being as aloof as he always was. "Don't come crying to me when you pass out or something."

"Oh, by the way, Húxiān," Lanza said as they reached the door. His voice was a mix of upset and teasing. "You owe me a soda."

Húxiān scoffed. "You being serious right now? It isn't _my_ fault that you didn't hold onto it, you freaking klutz!"

Naomi watched them go, and it wasn't long before everyone else started to file out. Wiseman and her father stayed behind to talk with Long Caster, and Jaeger left with Skald, Fencer, and Tailor to go and get dinner. She stared at her hands, fidgeting with them until she felt someone rudely shove her shoulder and looked up to see Avril and Tabloid standing over her. She started to ask them what they needed, but Avril answered the question before she even asked it. "You need a break and you need to talk," Avril said simply, as if able to read her mind. "I've got a lot of work that needs to be done thanks to you idiots and Tabloid is free for the afternoon. You're coming with us and you're going to talk. Now get up."

Tabloid held out his hand, offering to help her up with his usual smile. Naomi cast a look towards her father, Wiseman, and Long Caster, and then accepted Tabloid's help with a sigh. He lifted her up and she walked between him and Avril, leaving the briefing room behind him and setting off for the hangars. She wasn't sure if it would help her, but it would get her away from things for a bit. It didn't make the the problems go away, though, and she'd just have to deal with them later.

But she was grateful for the distraction. She sighed, thinking to herself, _Might as well take the break while you can..._

* * *

**1907hrs.**

"So, you want to talk about what happened, or are you just going to sit there?"

Avril's voice rang out in the hangar, echoing slightly since she'd raised her voice to speak over the sound of her working. Naomi sat on a box she'd moved closer to the hangar doors so she could watch the sun set, while Tabloid paced nearby. They'd sat without talking for a while once they'd gotten to the hangar, and Naomi was mostly trying to settle down after the day she'd had. Although Tabloid seemed more willing to let her sit and work things out silently, Avril seemed convinced that talking it out was going to fix it faster and pestered her about it at least every five minutes. Part of Naomi wished that she'd just focus on her work, but she knew she probably should get the conversation over with sooner, rather than later.

Naomi reached for her water bottle and took a couple of sips, keeping her eyes on the sky and debating what she was going to say. "I lost it, alright?" she finally said in a more irritated way than she would have liked. "I'm stressed and I'm tired of people screwing me over. Clemens was a traitor and he got what was coming to him. What if Count or Lanza had died today because of those two maniacs that Clemens seems to have been buddies with, huh? I'm not going to let them get hurt and not do something about that. I was only finishing what Húxiān started, and I had more of a reason to beat the shit out of him than she did. What would you have done in my shoes, huh?"

She turned slightly so that she could see the expressions on their faces, and saw that Tabloid had stopped pacing. Avril had stopped what she was doing as well, looking between the two of them with a blank expression, then wordlessly returned to her work. Tabloid let out a sigh. "We're not mad at you, Trigger," he said to her, a somewhat awkward look on his face. It was a mix of concern and uncertainty, as if he didn't know what to say to her. "I can get what your saying, but there's gotta be more of a reason behind your reaction, Trigger. You need to get stuff off of your chest in a better way than blowing things up and...and punching traitors in the face. So, why don't you try working it out with your friends for a change?"

"All of my wingmen could have died today, and it would have been on my watch and it would have been mostly Clemens' fault," Naomi admitted, but she didn't know quite where to go from there. Trying to keep her voice steady, she continued. "I've had too many people around me die when I could have stopped it, and now that I have command of a squadron that responsibility is just that much heavier." She paused, recalling the sound Scream had made when Naomi had shot her brother down. To lose someone that close to you, who was not only your wingman but your family as well? She considered Count, and Tabloid, and Avril, and even Wiseman and everyone else in the LRSSG to be like another family. If she had lost someone today...if she'd lost Count today...Naomi took a deep breath, trying not to think about it. "I came too close to losing Count in that dogfight and it was because of Clemens. I wanted him to feel as scared and helpless as I did. I...I wanted him to suffer. It's a horrible thing, but that's what it was."

Tabloid sat down beside her with a sigh, putting a hand on her back in a reassuring way. "The important thing is that Clemens got caught. Our suspicions were right and now the bastard's going to get locked up," he said to her. "What's also important is that Count is fine. The jerk's too stubborn to die, anyways. Even if you hadn't been there, he'd be fine. He'd have just annoyed those guys into submission." Tabloid tried for a laugh in an attempt to cheer her up, and Naomi did manage a small smile but her mood didn't have much of a change. He went on, still smiling, but more serious. "You've got to stop worrying, Trigger. After what you've been accused of, and where you've been, if you keep losing your temper on your allies then you're going to end up worse than you are now."

"Y'know, Tabloid, it's not like these guys make it any easier on us," Avril put in, using a harsher tone than usual. The two of them looked over at her curiously and she stopped what she was doing, wiping some grease off of her hands. "I mean, they expect us to just throw our issues aside and forget about them? And then, after everything that happened with McKinsey, we're supposed to blindly trust and follow authority? If you ask me, Clemens got off easy. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Clemens and McKinsey were old friends. He's obviously gotta past with Bandog, so it's not a ridiculous thought...and it would explain a lot when you think about it."

Naomi and Tabloid just looked at each other, neither one entirely unconvinced of Avril's argument. Naomi knew it was probably harder on her, even though she was more indirectly affected by McKinsey. She wasn't a pilot, perhaps solely due to her injury, but ever since they'd gotten here she'd had a bit of a chip on her shoulder. Naomi knew she was getting better, but having another conspiracy and a traitor like Clemens right under their noses probably set her back a bit. It did for Naomi, but she knew that Wiseman had been suspicious. Their commander and Naomi's father were there and had everyone's best interest in mind, but there were others that they were right to question.

"We've got to move past that sooner or later, and quit with the same arguments and excuses over and over," Naomi eventually said with another sigh, turning back around and resting her head on one hand as she returned her focus to the setting sun. "Tabloid's right. I should have reined it in, like Húxiān had done." The guilt she felt for losing her temper was mostly because of how worried and...almost afraid her father seemed when he'd looked at her. She didn't feel bad for Clemens that much. He had it coming. "At least now maybe people might think twice about screwing with my squadron."

"Something tells me that they already think twice, Trigger," Tabloid said, sounding almost amused. He stood up, starting his pacing again. "From the looks of things these last few battles and with that run in with those bats, I'd say you're getting quite the reputation. Even outside of our own forces."

"Yeah...maybe you're right..." Naomi smiled, but her thoughts didn't leave the battle earlier that day. And if they did, it wasn't for long.

Tabloid eventually gave Avril a hand, and Naomi debated getting up and helping as well, just to be able to put her mind to something else. But once she'd made the decision and stood up, intending to walk over and join them, she heard the sound of barking and claws clicking on concrete. Naomi, Tabloid, and Avril all turned towards the hangar door, the sun almost completely gone and the surrounding area holding a dark blue tint to it. A couple of figures were making their way to the hangar, Sarge leading the way. Bandog's muffled voice called out to her, but Sarge ignored him and came bounding over to Naomi anyways, skidding to a halt and sitting at her feet. Naomi chuckled as Sarge pawed at her boots, looking up at Naomi expectantly, whining slightly when she didn't get attention immediately.

Reaching down, Naomi scratched Sarge on her forehead and Sarge responded by tilting her head back and pinning her ears slightly. Her tail wagged back and forth on the ground and somehow the dog's joy in being pet managed to cheer Naomi up more than her conversation with Avril and Tabloid had done. She really did appreciate their willingness to talk it out with her, but sometimes there were easier ways to get your mind off of something and make yourself happy. As it turned out, dogs were great at lifting spirits. Sarge pricked her ears and turned her head away from Naomi, looking over her shoulder as Bandog, Húxiān, Count, and Lanza all entered the hangar. Bandog looked as though he was torn between fondness and exasperation as he snapped, "Sarge! Get over here, you nutcase. Quit just running off like that."

Sarge let out a playful bark and spun herself around, launching herself forward and practically hopping over to Bandog. He leaned over to pet her, but all she did was give his hands a quick sniff, nip at the edge of his sleeve, and go sprinting off around the hangar. She stopped once or twice and barked, waiting for someone to play chase or throw a ball for her, but aside from some laughter and smiles from everyone except for Count (who just rolled his eyes with a smirk) she didn't get anyone to join in on her game. With a frustrated half-bark, half-whine, she took off running again and settled for trying to attack her tail every now and then. Naomi found it difficult to believe that this was the same kind of dog that could break someone's arm if they really wanted. She also found it hard to believe that this same dog had looked ready to do just that to Clemens only an hour ago.

Naomi was quick to turn her attention to her wingmen, though, no longer worrying about the dog. In spite of some noticeable scrapes and bruises, everyone looked alright. Húxiān had a small bandage taped at the corner of her brow, where the worst of her injuries had been, and everyone looked a little ruffled still, Húxiān a bit more than the others, but everything looked okay. She walked over to them, placing a hand on Húxiān's shoulder as she stood between her and Count. Trying for a smile, she asked, "So, are you three going to be able to fly or is the doctor going to mother hen you like he did Fencer?"

"Nah, he gave everyone a clean bill of health," Húxiān replied with a smile of her own. She picked at the edge of her band-aid, looking as though it was causing some discomfort, and sighed. "Unfortunately, he still insisted I wear this for a couple of days. 'It'll keep it from getting infected and will speed along the healing process' he said. Pfft. I've gotten worse scratches than this. I think I could deal with a couple of days of looking like I did a face-plant on a wrench..."

"It was a little worse than that, Húxiān. Quit the tough act," Lanza said, taking a sip from a fresh bottle of cola. Naomi guessed that Húxiān finally gave in and reimbursed him on his drink, since he was looking rather content and smug whereas she frowned at him and rolled her eyes.

Count looked Naomi up and down as she stepped away from Húxiān. "Everyone's been checked out and given the all clear except for you, Trigger," he said, sounding concerned once again. Naomi looked at him, noting that he didn't look as banged up as everyone else, but she still didn't want to go see the doctor. Too much had happened that day already, last thing she wanted was someone poking and prodding her. Count, almost as if reading her mind, gave an exasperated sigh. "Really? Now you choose to be stubborn? Heh. Who knew that the great Three Strikes was scared of doctors."

"I'm not scared," Naomi said, trying not to sound annoyed. That's what he was trying to do, but everyone's ridiculous insistence on her seeing a doctor was getting on her last nerve. She was fine physically, so there wasn't a good reason to go. She dismissed the idea before Count or anyone else could continue to bother her. "What was important was making sure all of you were alright. I'll go tomorrow, so would everyone _please_ stop breathing down my neck about it?" Lanza and Húxiān didn't argue with her, but Count huffed and kept whatever he wanted to say to himself. Satisfied with that, Naomi nodded and took a deep breath, figuring she should try something productive. "So, now that everything with Clemens turned out to be true and it's out in the open...I'm open to suggestions for where to go from here. I need something to give to Wiseman, since he'll probably expect me to have some input. So what do we do with him?"

Without waiting around to see if anyone else had an idea, Bandog immediately replied, "Interrogate him."

"Interrogate?" Lanza repeated, tapping his index finger thoughtfully on his soda bottle, making a faint clinking sound. "I thought we knew everything about it. What more could we possibly get from him?"

Bandog crossed his arms. "He wasn't working alone." He seemed confident with his answer, as though he was entirely convinced that he was right. And he was happy to prove it. "I know this guy. I was under his command for almost two years before I was finally rid of him. Or...so I thought, anyways. He's not as clever as you'd think, and he's too boastful to be doing this on his own. Think of him like McKinsey, but...dumber and slightly more loyal. By loyal, I don't mean it in an admirable way, either. Loyal as in 'become a doormat to anyone higher in rank than him'. It was pathetic to watch, believe me, but if he's in something like this then he's not in it alone. He wouldn't have made it this far without someone backing him."

"Hang on. That Lieutenant General that he mentioned...could he be in on this? They're investigating him according to the Vice Chairman, which means something must have caused suspicion," Húxiān suggested, and Naomi nodded in agreement. "I mean, it would make sense."

"Osea's government is more messed up than I thought," Tabloid put in, him and Avril having come over to join the discussion. "I knew we had an issue with pompous generals and the occasional corrupt asshole. I mean, that much is to be expected." He sighed, glancing at Avril. "I hate to admit it, but you might be onto something with what you said earlier, Avril. I don't think there's a man or woman in charge nowadays that isn't corrupt. I guess if you let enough power go to your head, you really _do_ start thinking you're above it all."

"Well, we've already established that," Avril replied, but she didn't look happy that he agreed with her. She shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. "Still, it's a real shame. I grew up around a lot of great guys that used to be in the air force. They were like family to me, and trust me, if they were still around and running things today, we wouldn't have these issues. Ever since the last war, I think our leaders have taken a turn for the worse. I mean, look around. I'm not even military and I have to put up with this bullshit. That's how bad things have gotten. How much more of this are we all going to take before somebody makes a permanent fix? If that general is in on it, then that's just one more guy out of the way. Why bother with it anymore if we're barely even making a dent."

"Because at least it will get their attention," Lanza said, sipping on his cola. "Even if it doesn't accomplish much, it at least sends a statement."

"Figured that you would have learned that after everything that happened with McKinsey," Bandog said, looking in her direction. She glared at him, but he didn't seem to care. He shrugged. "I say we go for the interrogation. Talk to Wiseman about it."

The others nodded in agreement, save for Avril, but it took Naomi a bit longer to think of what to do. She looked over at Count, then to Húxiān, then to Lanza, and back at Count. Finally, she took a deep breath and looked to Bandog. "I'll talk to Wiseman about letting us see the guy before he gets shipped off, but I have a different approach I want to take with this," she said, and they all gave her a curious look. Giving them a tired smile, she told them, "You'll find out tomorrow. For now, I want to get some food. And some sleep...what say we all head to the mess hall and grab dinner?"

Everyone agreed to that without any argument, and the group (including Sarge) all set off. Naomi wanted to speak to Clemens herself, and that was the 'different' approach she wanted to take. The only problem was that Wiseman probably wouldn't want her anywhere near the guy after what happened. But she wanted to speak with him. To get her opinion on him out in the open and get him to crack, to tell them just who was helping him and why they'd done it in the first place. The realization that, even after they had all this evidence that she didn't kill Harling, her own country was still going to find a reason to turn its back on her and on any of the pilots that had been in the penal unit was starting to set in. And she wanted some reassurance that that wasn't going to be the case. And yet, maybe it was.

* * *

**Erusean Air Base, Near Expo City.**  
**2201hrs.**

The lights flickered on in the now empty hangar and former colonel McKinsey stood in the doorway with a blank expression, staring into the structure that housed the Mimic Squadron's aircraft only a few hours before. And now here it was, empty, with the only evidence that the hangar had been used being the equipment and parts strewn across and several scuff marks on the floor. It had been worn down from use by not just the two siblings, but by other squadrons before them. Now the hangar would get used for other squadrons. People deserted every day. Their little base of screw-ups would be overcrowded before long, so the extra space was just what they needed.

McKinsey shook his head and crossed his arms as he looked around the building. He wasn't exactly thrilled about the twins' death. It wasn't that he cared much about them, in fact they meant less to him then the prisoners he had to look after at Zapland. What bothered him was that it was money down the drain. They'd been given a job to do and they were supposed to be among the best pilots for the job, and yet they got themselves shot down. And the worst part about it was that they didn't even take Trigger with them when they went. In fact, they couldn't even shoot down Count. McKinsey clenched his fist. Leave it to those stupid convicts to continue getting in his way, even after they were pardoned.

And from what he'd heard, Count had finally started to grow a spine. Instead of running from a fight, he actually helped Trigger? Well, that was the rumor anyways. According to what that Scream girl had mentioned about their fight over Artiglio. Still, he was weak. He was easy prey. And yet he survived. That meant that McKinsey was back to square one, and the only person around to blame was himself and that Clemens guy. That didn't mean that he was excusing the siblings' failure. That was still on them. No, his only mistake had been getting in on this plan to begin with. Now he had to find another plan, or just continue hiding and hoping that Osea or the conservatives in Erusea didn't discover their little base and wipe them out.

His thoughts were interrupted as he felt his smartphone vibrate in his jacket pocket. Startled by the sudden, unexpected call, he unzipped his pocket and pulled his phone out, studying the ID displayed on the screen. Due to where he was and the people he was around, McKinsey had been very careful about naming the contacts he put into this phone. It was his 'work phone' that he'd brought with him to avoid people getting curious about any calls he received if he was out of his office. His loyalty was shaky at best with both countries, and he didn't trust the Eruseans as far as he could throw them. Only problem was that they were the ones willing to pay the most and he was stuck with them unless he found a way to worm his way back into Osea's trust. It was unlikely, but he couldn't erase the possibility.

But every single person he'd trusted enough to give this number were only his fellow Oseans and Eruseans that he believed he could trust. There weren't many. He had two Erusean commanders, another penal unit commander he'd been familiar with, then there was Clemens, and then as a precaution Clemens had sent the number to the lieutenant general that was in on their ploy to kill Trigger. Shepherd had just been named Shepherd in his contacts, to avoid raising too much suspicion. Everyone else got a rank or affiliation to go along with it, but Shepherd wasn't that special. But it was still quite a shock to see that name pop up on his phone, especially when Clemens had been the one in contact with Shepherd. There wasn't a reason that McKinsey was aware of for this call.

He answered the call, bringing the phone up to his ear with some hesitation. "This is Colonel D. McKinsey," he introduced himself as quickly and confidently as always. Figuring he might as well go on, he said, "I can't say that I was expecting a call from you, Lieutenant General. I assumed that the brigadier general would be contacting me, unless you wish to discuss the failure of the operation, sir."

The voice that answered belonged to an older man, more gravelly than McKinsey was expecting but still smoother than his own voice. He sounded tired and worried as he answered, but it was clear that he was rather annoyed with McKinsey. "_We were trying to prove that we didn't need Three Strikes, but Osea's operation and the LRSSG's success was mostly credited to Captain Foulke and her squadron. We were making a decision, and the decision was ultimately that Three Strikes would benefit Osea. While I disagree, it wasn't up to me. Just like sending those two mercenaries after the brigadier general said to hold them back was not up to you,_" he said to him. "_And thanks to you, my plan to out Foulke for what she really is has come to a halt. She's a murderer and a flight risk. Just like you. And now our military can continue using her as a crutch, all while I'm going to be under investigation well into the foreseeable future. So congratulations, 'Colonel' McKinsey. You've proven to be even more useless than before._"

McKinsey scowled, not liking that some old man that he barely knew was making a comment like that. "I made a call that you and Clemens were too scared to make," he argued. "Don't forget that without me, you wouldn't have had your precious mercenaries to begin with. I was the one that pulled them out of the death sentence you bigshots sent them to on Tyler Island, all because you were worried that a couple of Belkan kids would be a threat because they weren't afraid to make the tough calls. They followed orders, even if it was only for the money. I did what had to be done."

"_Don't act as if you saved them from that unit. They were exactly what you hated the most. Prisoners. What's worse, they were prisoners that treated you exactly how you treated them from what I've heard,_" Shepherd replied smugly, as if he knew exactly what to say against McKinsey. Clemens must have told him about everything. Just what he needed. Shepherd continued. "_But instead of getting angry about that, I've decided to warn you of something. Brigadier General Clemens has been taken into custody. Apparently some analyst looked into what he's been doing and thanks to you sending in the siblings, Clemens outed himself while trying to call them off. He was assaulted by Three Strikes and the other female pilot in their unit before being dragged off._"

"Well, that's his and your problem, not mine" McKinsey said. "They don't know I'm involved."

"_But it probably won't be long before they do. When they find out about your involvement and your location, they'll probably inform someone and the Oseans will call for an airstrike,_" Shepherd said. "_I may not like you, and I may think that you deserve a far more painful end then that, but I figure I should give you a chance to either say your prayers or run like a coward. The decision is yours to make._" McKinsey didn't answer him, growling slightly at that. Shepherd interrupted him when he finally went to say something. "Oh, a_nd one other thing. Is there any chance that either of the siblings could have survived being shot down?_"

He frowned. "No." It was a simple, straightforward answer and one that he said in complete confidence. There wasn't any way they could have survived. Not after what he'd done. "I did the same thing I'd done when we had trouble back at Zapland. I disabled the ejection seat behind their back, making it so they'd go down with their planes. Or, at least, I did it to one of their planes. I'm not sure if it was the brother or the sister's, though. Either way, once Trigger decides to kill someone they aren't going to survive. Harling being a prime example."

Shepherd didn't seem convinced. "_Well, I heard someone mention that our forces are moving through Anchorhead and are going through any wreckage for survivors to take as POWs until the war is over. Someone made mention that the two planes that Foulke shot down went in very different directions. We're still searching, but allegedly one managed to bail out. The other one crash supposedly landed. Like I said, our forces are still looking into it and it's highly unlikely, but you might want to start watching your back_."

"There's no way they survived, sir," McKinsey insisted. "I'd bet my life on it."

"_Well, that may be exactly what you're doing,_" Shepherd huffed. "_You've taken a risky gamble, one that'll probably come back around to bite you in the ass. As usual. And if this ends badly for you, you can't lay the blame on anyone else. I warned you. And Clemens, however stupid he is, tried to make sure things went smoothly. Even for you. The failure is both your faults, but if you die then it'll be your own._"

"At least I won't rot away in prison," McKinsey snapped at him, finding it harder to control his temper. "We'll see who's laughing once you're below people like me. Throw people under the bus a lot, and people tend to turn on you. Believe me, I'd know it first hand."

"_If you want to burn in hell, far be it from me to stop you. I've heard there's a special place down there reserved for cowards and traitors like you,_" Shepherd snapped at him. "_I've given you a fair warning. We're done here._"

The call abruptly came to an end, and McKinsey couldn't help but find himself furious at the nerve that Shepherd had. McKinsey weighed his options, though, debating whether or not he should heed the warning. He saw no reason, to. It was probably time he left this base, but again, there was no proof that Osea would attack them. No, he had other things to do. McKinsey thought about it a moment longer, then turned the lights out in the hangar, pressing the button to close the doors on his way out. They creaked and groaned as they slid closed behind him, while he headed for his quarters.

He may not have seen a good reason to run right away, but there was no reason he couldn't be prepared for it anyways. One day he'd get back at Trigger and Bandog and the rest of the remnants of Spare Squadron. But for now, he needed to worry about himself. Perhaps Shepherd wasn't so wrong after all. He needed to look out for number one. Just like he'd always done.


	33. Risk Factor

Chapter Thirty-Two: Risk Factor

|...|...|...|

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
_**September 11th, 2019.**_  
**0707hrs.**

|...|...|...|

"Just so you know, your dad was entirely against this idea of yours," Wiseman said to Naomi as the two of them walked side by side down the hallway, Count and Bandog following close behind them with Sarge. She'd spoken with him after dinner last night, and convinced him to let her speak to Clemens. The original idea had been to bring Bandog along with Sarge, but Wiseman had insisted on going along and when Count found out he wanted to go as well. Count had been very insistent on going, and she noticed that since the operation he'd seemed to be trying to stay as close to her as possible. Or more than usual. Wiseman also seemed to notice this, but he hadn't said anything.

Naomi sighed at his comment, recalling the irritated look on her father's face when she'd brought it up with Wiseman. It seemed that it was his turn to be upset, but something about the look told her it was stemming from concern. She'd talk to him about that later, but for now she had someone else to confront. "I know he wasn't. But this is just something I wanted to do. He threatened my life and the life of my friends. They may be your men, but they were under my command when it happened," she replied and he looked at her, perhaps surprised. Naomi had been trying to show that he hadn't made a mistake ever since her stunt at Stonehenge, and she'd been avoiding calling Strider 'her' squadron whenever he was around. As much as she could anyways. "Wiseman, even if I don't speak to him, I at least want to hear what he has to say for himself."

"I don't see the reason for it, personally," Count chimed in, and both Wiseman and Naomi looked over their shoulders at him. He seemed annoyed, which made Naomi wonder why he wanted to go so badly. He could have stayed with the others, but he didn't. "Not anymore, anyways. I mean, it isn't like the guy's on trial or something. And besides, he's got the right to remain silent. He might be more tightlipped than everyone is assuming until he gets to Osea and he's going through a court-martial."

"He's a coward, Count," Bandog replied in his usual irritated tone. He chuckled suddenly, smirking as he remembered the debriefing and what had happened to Clemens. "He got beat up by two girls. Not exactly a mark of bravery."

"Oh please, like _you'd_ be upset if Húxiān kicked your ass. Some guys like girls that can throw a punch," Count replied with a smirk of his own, earning a warning glare from Bandog. He shrugged it off. "What's to say Clemens' mind doesn't work the same way? I wouldn't exactly fault him for it." Count looked at Naomi after he said this with an expression that she couldn't figure out, but as quickly as it showed up it vanished again and she just took it as more of him going out of his way to annoy the others. It wasn't a big deal anyways.

Wiseman, on the other hand, seemed amused by it. He raised an eyebrow and looked between Count and Naomi before Count made a scoffing sound and Wiseman looked straight ahead again, stifling a laugh. "Interesting theory, Count, but I'm afraid Bandog seems to be right about this one," he said with a smile. "I mean, you saw that look on his face when Húxiān went for him. Then Trigger came after him...poor guy couldn't really catch a break, but he seemed frozen by fear to me."

"They've both got a good point, Count," Naomi added. "Seriously, what kind of a soldier backs down from a fight? Especially if he has a reason to defend himself? Kind of makes me disappointed that guys like him are the ones running our military. How'd they even earn their rank when they're constantly acting like that?"

"Not a clue," Wiseman said, shaking his head. He grinned and gave Naomi a pat on the shoulder. "But maybe we'll all be able to change that someday, huh? With the reputation everyone here has got, I'm betting they'd give us anything we wanted once the war is over. But...as likely as that is, let's try and not think too ahead of ourselves. Ah, here we are!"

He seemed almost embarrassed by his brief episode of cockiness, but Naomi actually found it funny that he was almost just as bad as the rest of them were. Regardless of that, they'd arrived at where they were holding Clemens, and the MP let them inside without much prompting. Naomi noticed the officer give a friendly smile and nod of greeting to Bandog, which he reluctantly returned. It wasn't a genuine smile, and anyone could tell you that, but it seemed that Bandog had been getting familiar with the MPs on base. She was honestly surprised that he hadn't been given that as a role, since he was obviously better suited for it. He didn't seem the type to work on planes, but with the way he'd grabbed Clemens during the debriefing and how he worked with Sarge...it would be perfect for him.

Naomi didn't dwell on that for much longer as they all stepped inside one at a time, the door shutting loudly behind them. They weren't large cells, and it wasn't like they were used for anything that wasn't temporary. It was one space, one large room, with four small holding cells, two on each side. They were pretty much identical to the cells at the 444th, except much cleaner and their size was more akin to the solitary cells they were thrown into. There was a single cot at the far end of the cell, directly across from the door, and a very small sink and toilet. There were five small windows, one in each cell and one at the end of the aisle they were standing in, all out of reach without something to stand on.

She hesitated, and so did Count, finding the entire area undesirable. They weren't the ones locked up, so it shouldn't have mattered, but it did. Bandog and Wiseman stopped and looked over at them, picking up on this. Sighing, Count and Naomi looked at each other as if offering a chance to change their mind and leave to one another. But Naomi rubbed Count's arm reassuringly and stepped away, taking her place beside Wiseman. Count followed more slowly, but no longer as hesitant as he was before. So some memories were tougher than others, but they were all out of that situation and had each other. Besides, this place was still proving to be nicer than Zapland would ever be.

The four of them all stood outside of the cell that Clemens had been sent to after a trip to the infirmary, and Naomi felt a mix of satisfaction and guilt as she saw the state he was in now. His nose was bruised, cut, and looked a bit crooked, but had been bandaged. Not to mention a large, extremely painful looking bruise on his jaw and a split, swollen lip. His graying hair wasn't neatly slicked any longer, and it stuck up in some places, but it looked like he'd done what he could to fix it. He still wore his uniform, which had some blood spots on the collar and was wrinkled from Naomi grabbing him. He sat on his cot with a defeated, scared look on his face, staring at his interlocked hands in front of him as if he was deep in thought.

It was a few seconds before he finally noticed them, looking up at them, briefly startled. He looked them all over and straightened up, leaning back on his cot. Naomi noticed the cot was still made up, the blankets he was given folded at one end with a pillow placed on top of them. One look at the bags under his eyes and it wasn't hard to figure out that he'd been up all night. She had heard that he spent a good amount of time with the doctor last night, or he just hadn't felt the need to use the pillow or anything. His demeanor was more relaxed than Naomi had expected, and he didn't seem so smug anymore. He looked at Naomi, crossing his arms. "You here to mock me or beat what little pride I have left out of me? Or maybe it's both."

"Relax, Clemens." Wiseman was the one that answered him, gesturing for silence from the others. He kept a serious expression, but it wasn't one that said he was angry. "We're only here to talk to you. No one's going to be beating anyone."

"If only I'd had the same reassurance yesterday." Clemens sighed, and he glanced towards Bandog with a look only Bandog seemed to get. "Or the first time something like this had happened. Maybe next time I can get a warning before one of you flips your lid, that way it's a fair fight..."

Naomi rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Considering that he was taller and arguably stronger than both Naomi and Húxiān, she'd say they were pretty evenly matched. He could have fought back at any time. She got the feeling that he was accepting his defeat at that point, and just didn't feel the need to fight back. But if that was the case then he had no reason or real right to complain about it now. Either way, it didn't matter now. He was captured and he had to answer to them now. "Rest assured, Brigadier General, that there isn't going to be a 'next time'. At least not any time soon," she said to him. "But we aren't here to talk about that. We've got other concerns."

"Well, look who's suddenly being all levelheaded now," Clemens said with a frown, leaning forward. He seemed too depressed to be properly snide, but his message got across either way. He let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Wish you'd been this composed during our last encounter. But, that's women for you. Never can keep your emotions under control, until it's too late." The four of them shared a collective look that basically said 'what's this guy's problem?' but that seemed to be what he was going for. He relaxed a bit, seeming to get his usual attitude back. "I take it you want to ask me some questions about those mercenaries? Maybe who was in on it with me?"

"Depends on how much you're willing to tell us, which also translates to how much you're willing to risk for someone else," Wiseman said with a shrug. Clemens raised an eyebrow and Wiseman went on to explain. "You're not getting off scot-free, that much should be obvious. But if you cooperate with us then we might be able to work something out, make things benefit you a bit more. That's only if you tell us what we need and want to know. And we expect the truth."

"And why do you seem so sure I'm going to take that offer?" Clemens asked, almost irritated, but the expression on his face told Naomi that he wasn't going to pass it up. There was interest, maybe even hope, but he didn't say anything past that.

It was Count that spoke up next. "C'mon, what have you got to lose at this point? That Shepherd guy sounds like he threw you under the bus, and something tells me that you weren't entirely happy that those bats showed up." He sounded as though he was only playing along for Wiseman's benefit, and it was made clear as he continued. "Look, I honestly couldn't care less what happens to you. Because of those two psychos we nearly lost people. I was almost killed. Trigger was nearly killed and _she_ was your target, and I'm not going to forgive you for that...but I also know what happens when the top brass doesn't care about you, so if you want to avoid getting thrown into the same shithole that I came from then I'd tell us what you know."

Wiseman looked as though he was going to scold Count, giving him a look that clearly said to back off, but a switch seemed to be flipped as the realization finally hit Clemens. Naomi and the others watched him go from smug to angry and then to scared as he looked them over for any indication that Count was bluffing. Bandog smirked at him and that caused him to go to a mix of fear and anger as he quickly considered his options. Without any reluctance at all, he told them, "Alright, fine. I'll tell you anything you want. So long as you can keep your promises and keep me from getting tossed in with a bunch of lowlife criminals in some penal unit. I'd be useless then...I'd never survive..."

"I believe it..." Naomi said under her breath, and Count and Bandog heard her, both of them stifling a laugh. Wiseman sent them another glare and the three of them quickly returned to blank expressions.

Shaking his head, Wiseman turned his attention back to Clemens. "We'll do what we can, Brigadier General...there isn't much we can do other than put in a good word, but we've got a good reputation. People trust us. They'd consider what we said. I'm afraid that's the only real assurance I can give you, but if you're sure then let's go ahead and get this over with." He shifted his weight, glancing around before he finally found the right words. "Alright, I guess the first question would be...who else was in on this?"

Clemens took a minute to answer, sighing. "Lieutenant General Shepherd gave me the additional funds I needed, although I get the feeling he's going to deny everything. And the man that gave us the rest of it..." He paused, and nodded to Naomi, Count, and Bandog. "Well, he's an old friend of theirs. Not really a friend, really. But as it turns out, Colonel McKinsey escaped custody and defected to the Eruseans. He used some of the money that he got for selling out Osea to help pay for the mercenaries...so that they'd kill Captain Foulke. From what it sounded like during the battle, they wanted to kill you as well, Lieutenant O'Connor."

Count didn't say anything, just took a shaky breath. Wiseman looked at them with concern and pity as the three of them looked at one another. McKinsey got away. Naomi felt herself getting frustrated. He'd gotten away...he wasn't brought to justice for what he'd done. He got away and no one seemed interested in bringing him back in. And the two Osean officers that knew where he was weren't about to give that information up. By now, he was probably long gone. There wasn't any point. Worthless bastard...nothing but a coward that can't stand up for his actions and face consequences like a true soldier would. Naomi tried to ignore that and move on. They had more questions for Clemens. They could worry about McKinsey later.

"Who were those pilots that you hired?" Bandog asked next, staring Clemens down. "Did you manipulate them into working for you? They sounded young. Probably barely old enough to fly."

"Their names are Otto and Elke van Dalsen. I can give you the files on them that I have downloaded," Clemens replied with a scowl on his face, not liking that Bandog was suddenly the one asking him. He instinctively reached into his jacket pocket, causing Sarge and Bandog to both tense. But a realization came over Clemens and he relaxed with an embarrassed and frustrated look. "Just check with the MP out front. The doctor confiscated everything I had on me, but I had it saved to a flash drive. In fact, I think I actually left it in my room...by my laptop. Everything you need to know on them and the terms of their hire is on that."

"Alright, now I've got one for you," Naomi said, bringing his attention to her. She took a step closer to his cell, almost pressing herself against the bars. She didn't know why she did this, and she felt Count briefly try and pull her back, tugging on the sleeve of her flight suit, but she ignored him. "Why did you hire someone to kill me? I've done nothing but obey the orders I've been giving and I've been nothing but loyal to Osea. For my entire life. And you suddenly want me dead? But, then you go and change your mind last minute...so what were you trying to accomplish, brigadier general?"

He blinked, almost surprised by her question, and opened and closed his mouth as if he was trying to find the right way to answer but deciding against it. Everyone in the room seemed very interested in his answer, and he was reluctant to supply it. But at last, he answered her. "The plan was originally to...terminate you. With the belief among some that you truly did kill Harling, and the fact that your father was a mercenary and a terrorist...not to mention the fact that you're basically a full blooded Belkan..."

Naomi cut him off, snapping at him, "I was born and raised in Osea. So you can cut it with that bullshit excuse right now. I'm sick of hearing it."

"Just hear me out. It played an important part in our decision..." Clemens looked guilty about what he was saying, and Naomi wanted nothing more than for him to just shut up. But she wanted an answer. "There's a belief that, with your heritage and your father's past...not to mention a couple of things that your sister was involved in during the last war...and don't even get me started on your brother." Naomi raised an eyebrow, wondering where her siblings fit into all of this, but she allowed Clemens to continue. "The point is that we were worried that you may have strong ties to some organizations that are trying to restore Belka to its former glory. If they managed to sway you, then you'd go from being a potential hero to a...well, a villain. Now I don't think you're one of the good guys. Not entirely. There are too many pilots out there, ones that only seek fame and fortune...but it was ultimately decided that you're useful to our military. And I called off the attack...or I thought I did. I figured you'd just wipe them out...I saw how you defended O'Connor too, even though I don't believe he was even worthy of a pardon."

Count stepped forward, starting to reply, but Wiseman held him back. Naomi straightened up and crossed her arms. "Count's a more noble and loyal soldier than you'll ever be, Clemens. So watch your mouth," she said to him as firmly as she could. Her voice was probably getting shaky by now, and she was getting angrier by the minute. "I'll defend him in the air or on the ground. You don't have a right to decide who gets to live or die based off of where they came from or what other people have done. Count, Tabloid, Avril, and Bandog all came from a penal unit. But in spite of what they've done wrong, they served their sentence and I couldn't ask for better people to watch my back. As for me? I never asked for my parents, or my brother and sister, or whatever legacy I have to carry. But I wouldn't change anything. Because whether they're Belkan or not doesn't mean shit to me. They're still my family and I'm proud of it. And if people want me dead for that, then so be it."

Clemens opened his mouth to say something again, but Naomi wasn't finished. "But if you ever try and harm Count, my family, or _any_ of my wingmen _ever_ again — if anybody tries it — then I'll show you a 'villain'. I don't care who you are or what rank you've got or what happens to me. You hurt them, you answer to me. They're more important to me than my career will ever be. Pass that on to your Lieutenant General." She pushed herself away from the cell and backed up, looking at the others. Wiseman stepped aside, and Count looked as though he wanted to say something to her. Naomi felt like she should say something to him, but she didn't know what.

As Wiseman continued questioning Clemens, Naomi stood beside Count, more or less out of the conversation. To her surprise, though, Count wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a reassuring hug. Naomi didn't know why, but in that moment she felt better. She wasn't angry anymore. She felt safe and relaxed and warm. Still upset, but it was ebbing away. She and Count stayed side by side until Wiseman and Bandog were finally done with their questioning. Count gently rubbed her shoulder before letting go of her and the two of them turned to the door, Wiseman behind them. Bandog lingered by the cell door for a minute longer, saying something so only Clemens could hear him, and then he followed them out into the hallway.

The four of them stood outside, the MP shutting the door behind them. Naomi looked at the door and sighed. "Well, that didn't go how I imagined it at all," she said. "Did we at least get something helpful out of him?"

"Yeah, he cooperated well. I'm satisfied with everything he gave us," Wiseman said, none of them quite so sure where to go from there. It seemed as though he had it all worked out, though. Perhaps he was the only one. "I'll send someone to clean out his room and make a few calls so we can get him out of here. Not to mention the information on Shepherd and McKinsey. There's no guarantee that we can get McKinsey back in custody, but we _can_ get rid of Shepherd. I'll also have someone check into those siblings he hired, see if they have any family we might be able to...inform of their passing. I doubt whatever unit they were a part of cared enough to do that."

"So, what do we do?" Count asked, exchanging a look with Bandog.

"Go and rest up and wait for word from me," Wiseman answered. "David's going to be calling us as soon as he finishes up working through some last minute things, and I want you all to be ready when the call finally comes. So go and hang out for a bit. Relax, chat, work with Mead in the hangars. Anything you'd like, just so long as you get your minds off of this for a bit." He gave them a small smile. "And that's an order. Now go. Get outta here and let us handle things for now."

Not in the mood to argue and honestly being more than happy for a break, Naomi turned away with Count and Bandog close behind her. Bandog reached into his pocket and brought out a rope toy he carried around for Sarge, flinging it down the hall and letting go of her leash so she could chase after it. Naomi watched Sarge happily run after it, smiling slightly. Bandog also chuckled a bit as Sarge returned with it, pausing for a brief struggle in prying it from her mouth before he threw it again. "I'd say things went better than they could have. The coward cooperated and now he's out of our way." He looked over at Naomi. "You're probably in the clear, now, Trigger."

Count scoffed. "I doubt that. You really think that he's the only one that wants her dead?" He shook his head. "No. We can't just let our guard down because one person is out of the way. Now that McKinsey is out on the loose? You actually think he's going to give up on killing us that easily? After everything we've done to him?"

"Count's right, Bandog," Naomi said, still not liking that just about everyone in her own country might as well be turning on her. Not to mention she had Erusea out for her head, and she had her own enemies to deal with in the form of Mr. X. And then the Alicorn with some madman out to possibly blow up the capital, where her mother probably was. Things were spiraling out of control, and especially out of her control. Why did wars always have to get so personal? She rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Stress. Just great. "We're not going to be able to let our guard down any time soon. And things aren't going to get much better from here on out."

* * *

**2021hrs.**

They all sat around the briefing room much later that day, the screen seemingly brighter than usual as it kept with its regular display of the Usean continent. Although it was very early in the morning back in Osea, David North had been the reason they were all gathered here. The mood among them was basically the same. Most of them were quiet and restless, chatting quietly with one another or joking around to get rid of excess energy. Lanza was more subdued than usual, but Skald and Fencer were pestering to try and put him back in his usual good mood. From what Naomi could see of it, it was working, and Lanza was grinning and laughing at something Skald had said.

Naomi noticed that Tailor was speaking with Húxiān, going over some sort of battle strategy he was working out or something for his next practice fight. He was easily the most hyperactive of them all, fidgety and slightly irritable that he hadn't been on a real sortie. Naomi wanted to train with him a bit more. He seemed like a good, hardworking kid, but Wiseman and the others were very adamant about keeping him out of combat. Naomi didn't blame them. He was nineteen, and they had enough kids fighting on the ground. Kids that enlisted and signed up for this. They could only do their best to keep them safe, but there was a way to make sure Tailor got home. Still, after the Clemens incident and what happened over Anchorhead, he clearly wasn't happy that no one would let him get in on the action. More so than usual, anyways.

Tabloid and Count were sitting on either side of Naomi, as usual, with Avril beside Tabloid and Bandog behind her. He was more focused on what Húxiān and Tailor were talking about, though. Naomi watched Wiseman, her father, and Long Caster say something to Jaeger, and Jaeger nodded in reply before he made his way back to where they were sitting. Everyone ceased their conversation and perked up as Jaeger approached them, standing at the edge of the row of seats they were sitting at. After taking a breath, he informed them, "North is finishing up as we speak, so he'll be calling any minute now. Wiseman also wanted me to tell you that we found out more about those bats."

"Really?" Fencer asked curiously. "So who were they?"

"Well, they seemed like average kids. They were twins, turning twenty-six next month, and their father was a mercenary pilot during the 90s. They were born in Belka, lived there until they were about two or three, then their parents moved them to Osea when their father sought out a new career and a new life," Jaeger explained to them, seeming to feel sorry for them. "Overall, it seemed they had a pretty average life. They had good grades in school, were said to be focused in class, and came from a fairly well-off family."

"So, how'd they get mixed up in the mercenary-assassin business, then?" Tabloid asked them, and Naomi noticed that he seemed intrigued when it was mentioned that they were Belkan.

"When they were about sixteen or seventeen, the sister...Elke was her real name...well, she spent a couple of months in juvie for vandalism shortly after her father passed away. Her brother eventually took the heat for a few more mistakes from then on out, but regardless of some marks on their record the military let them go through flight school for some reason. Their mother died halfway through that and they started acting out again," Jaeger said. "They made it through somehow and were accepted into a program by some Usean aircraft manufacturer that was working with the IUN when the war broke out. They got charged for assault on a superior officer shortly before and wound up getting sent to the penal unit set up on Tyler Island. And they broke out sometime recently and ran to Erusea for cover. After that, the OADF lists them as MIA, but hasn't been looking for them."

"Well, that explains a lot..." Naomi said, actually feeling bad now that she knew more about them. In a way, they sounded as though they had potential to be great pilots...and they threw it all away because they couldn't get over the past. She couldn't imagine how hard it must have been to lose their parents, and not to mention that they were Belkan too. They probably felt like the world was against them, and then they get tossed in prison. She knew how that felt. Still, it didn't excuse what they'd done. Or what they'd tried to do. "But, they're gone now. We won't have to deal with them any longer."

"It was their own damn fault," Count huffed. "Like I said, I don't feel sorry for them at all. They got what was comin' to 'em."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Count on this one," Húxiān grumbled, clearly not the most excited about sharing an opinion with Count. He gave her a smug smirk and she rolled her eyes before explaining her reasoning. "You can come from shitty circumstances and still make the best of things. If you ask me, they would have been better off making an effort to do good instead of giving in to the belief that they were inherently bad. I mean, look at how you all turned out. Look at how most of us turned out. They gave in to pressure and gave up. They set themselves up for what happened. It was their own fault and they didn't deserve any better."

Everyone murmured their agreement with her, and that was the last that anyone mentioned the subject. Naomi agreed as well, however reluctant she was to do so. Jaeger gave her a small smile of encouragement and pity and took his seat on the end of the row, beside Count. Her father was helping Long Caster with something on the computer, and shortly after there was a chiming sound as they connected their video call with David. Eventually, the steady chime ended and a different sound was heard as the window opened on the screen and the map zoomed in on Anchorhead Bay. Everyone went silent as the call went through, and everything seemed to stand still for a few seconds.

David's face appeared in the small window on the screen, looking rather tired. Naomi guessed he'd been up all night working with this, and it only affected his usual cheerfulness ever so slightly. "_Sorry it's so late, but I'm glad you're all here. It'll be important later on, I promise. We've acquired important intel from the mission._" The screen changed its position at the map to show a better example of distance. A circle appeared, lines all sprouting from the same spot but coming out at wide angles all the way around. "_For example...the shells from long-range anti-air fire came in on depressed trajectories. Look here..._"

A layout of the _Alicorn's_ railgun appeared on the screen, showing it from several angles with its size and overall length typed out underneath. It looked intimidating, and it only got worse with the explanation David gave them. "_The estimated energy output of the railgun is 500 megajoules at least,_" he said, and another, much larger circle appeared on the screen around the smaller one and a burst of red lines connected to them. That was its firing range. And that was terrifying. David went on, sounding tired and dejected, "_Fired at minimum-energy trajectory, range is over 3,000. They hid a powerful rail cannon aside from their main guns._"

Count furrowed his brow as they all focused on the screen in awe and concern. "It's almost like Stonehenge."

"Yeah..." Jaeger agreed with a nod. "A _mobile_ Stonehenge."

"As if a railgun wasn't terrifying enough on its own," Naomi said, recalling them defending Stonehenge. That thing was terrifying in action, even if it was on their side. And if a railgun could rip through an Arsenal Bird's shield? Their planes would be obliterated. There'd be nothing left of the aircraft to salvage. Which meant they were in a tricky business with the _Alicorn_. Even more than they already were. Naomi sighed. What would they come up with next? Next David was probably going to tell them that the damn thing had lasers mounted to it. _That_ wouldn't be fun to deal with, but thankfully the only trick up their sleeves seemed to be the railgun.

"_And also...there's this._" David went on, the screen zooming in on the bay. It showed the satellite view of the city and surrounding area and then a pair of surveillance photos captured of the _Alicorn_. One was of it beside a dock, and the other was of it leaving the bay. David typed a few things in on his own computer and then continued as a blueprint of the _Alicorn_ appeared beside the other images. "_The _Alicorn_ was in harbor at Anchorhead for approximately ten minutes. They couldn't have loaded SLBMs. They would have had to load something smaller._"

"Smaller?" Húxiān repeated, crossing her arms.

Avril leaned back in her seat. "I sense another trivia game coming on."

This seemed to cheer David and the others up a bit as a small smile appeared on their faces, a few chuckles sounding from the guys. David's face actually lit up a bit as he tried to make the question exciting. "_What is smaller and yet still a powerful weapon?_"

Silence fell over them as David, Wiseman, and Long Caster stared over them expectantly. A few looks were exchanged between the group, but Lanza immediately looked to his best friend. Naomi and the others eventually did as well, noting that Skald sat there with a serious and very thoughtful look on his face. He pressed his hand to the bottom of his chin, rubbing his index finger along the corner of his mouth. "Hmmm..." At last, his eyes lit up and he pulled his hand away from his face, snapping his fingers. "Tactical nukes."

"_You're close!_" David was suddenly much more cheerful than before, which was how Naomi was used to seeing him. He pressed a key on his computer, and Long Caster swiped across the smaller computer screen to display what he'd sent them on the larger screen. David smiled. "_The answer is tactical nuclear shells._"

"Wait...you said nuclear shells?!" Naomi sat there, more than a little shocked by the question.

"No way..." Count also seemed to be processing the question, all of them now staring at the image of the weapon.

Lanza, on the other hand, seemed to have other things on his mind. "Hey, hey, he got that question right!" he said, gesturing to Skald with an offended look on his face.

Skald sat there, almost embarrassed by the scene Lanza was making, and shrugged it off. "Nah. I missed the 'shell' part."

"Quiet!" Jaeger snapped at them, an exasperated look on his face. He sounded like a parent scolding their child, and Lanza and Skald both looked at one another and stifled a laugh. Although he shook his head as if in disappointment, Jaeger and just about everyone else in the room were hiding their amusement.

The map zoomed out, so Wiseman stepped up to continue. He nodded to Long Caster and three red circles appeared on the eastern side of the map, in allied territories. It took Naomi a moment to realize what was highlighted as targets for the enemy. New Arrows was highlighted, obviously, considering its importance. Zapland was just below that. She felt her stomach drop as she saw that Fort Grays was the third one, and she remembered her old friends and squadron. She still hadn't spoken to them, and she really didn't want them to get caught up in this unless they were going to help destroy it. Although they didn't need an explanation, Wiseman gave them one anyways. "_We think it's likely they'll attack our bases on the east coast. They're prime targets, and unfortunately, relatively easy ones as well._"

David shook his head. "_No, there's an even easier target, if you remember our conversation from the other day._" He then did the same thing Wiseman had done, and looked to Long Caster and nodded. The window with David's video feed shrunk down slightly as the screen shifted from the Usean continent and centered on Osea. Naomi felt more fear building up as a photo of the bridge in the capital showed up on the screen and the name of the capital was pinpointed on the screen. "_Their target's Oured, the Osean capital._"

Lanza's smile faded and he glanced around nervously. "You mean...they want a nuclear war? And they're really going to target _civilians_ to get what they want?"

"Crazier things have been done. I kinda hate that they're proving us right, though," Fencer said, and most of them nodded in agreement

"_Here's a question,_" David went on, more serious than before. "_What's a situation where nuclear deterrence doesn't work?_"

Húxiān rolled her eyes and sat up in her seat, arms still crossed. She let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, quiz guy, I've had enough of this!"

But Skald cut her off before she could continue and before anyone could get mad at her for voicing her agitation. His eyes lit up again and he snapped once more. "Ooh! Only when terrorists have the nukes!"

David smiled again, typing something in as Long Caster zoomed on the 3D map and squared off the capital. "_Correct!_" David chirped, and Wiseman and Long Caster both smiled.

Lanza chuckled, playfully elbowing Skald and raising an eyebrow. "Damn, Skald! Now you're on a roll!"

Skald looked a bit embarrassed, shrugging and allowing a sheepish smile that slowly turned to a smug one. "Hey, what can I say? I'm good at trivia games."

Naomi turned to look at Count, who had looked away from Skald and Lanza and back at the screen. He shook his head, doubtful for some reason. "But, we're after an Erusean submarine, not terrorists," Count said, and it made sense. But they'd already been going over different possibilities and that was one of them. Naomi still didn't know how to feel about it and she didn't want to jump the gun like they always did.

Wiseman looked over at Naomi's father, and they exchanged an uncomfortable look before Wiseman sighed, lowering his head with disappointment in his voice. "No, he's right." He took Long Casters place and pulled up an image of the Erusean flag, followed by a small image with some text on it. "HQ tells me that Erusea's justification is that the _Alicorn_ mutinied. 'As such, the Erusean military cannot be held responsible for the submarine's actions'. That's the official statement from one of their representatives, anyways. Allegedly, it came straight from the king."

"Damn..." Naomi said under her breath, looking between the Erusean flag and the image of Oured. "It's awfully convenient for them, isn't it? Can't say I'm too surprised...we should have seen this coming from a mile away."

"_I personally believe that many within the Erusean government would be against the plan, and wouldn't allow it if they were still in command. But now that Torres, a man with a grudge and more than enough experience, is in charge...it changes things,_" David said, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. "_They fully intend on dropping a nuke on Oured, and unfortunately there's no way to prevent this without causing mass hysteria. It's not looking so good. The _Alicorn_ and her crew are determined. They'll stop at nothing_."

"Here's a question for you, analyst," Naomi's father spoke up, and everyone looked at him. The expression on his face, mostly hidden by how dark the room was, but to Naomi it looked as though he already knew the answer to his own question. "Just exactly who are we facing? What are they going up against out there?"

"_The correct term would be 'terrorist' or...or 'irregular military',_" David replied, glancing at Naomi's dad with a look Naomi was growing more and more accustomed to seeing from people. It was a mix of pity and surprise. She'd seen it towards her and towards her father. It wasn't anything new. David continued, pulling up Torres' ID photo that they'd seen once before. "_But, I have a different name for them. 'An enemy to be stopped at all costs'._"

Determination and agreement passed through the group, all of them nodding in agreement. Skald was the only one to verbally agree. "Correct."

"With all of that said, though," Jaeger began slowly, looking around the room.. "What's our move? We don't know where they are, or how they'll get where they need to go. Nor do we have a plan to destroy it. The thing is massive, and it would take a miracle to take it out."

"_I'm working on that right now,_" David replied. "_I got in touch with a couple of people I know I can trust and they're in contact with Erusea now. We're hoping that their navy will be able to help us, sending over information so we can pinpoint weak points on the ship and figure out the prime spots to target it. If not then we'll have to go to the original source and creators of the su and get in touch with Yuktobania. Of course, all of this is provided that Erusea didn't put it through some serious upgrades...and the chances are, they did._"

"Well, David, just stay in touch with us as usual and let us know when you've made progress," Wiseman said, yawning not long after. Chuckling, he turned his attention back to them and took a look around at everyone. "As for everyone else, go and rest up and get to work tomorrow. We could all use some upgrades to our planes and a chance to brush up on some training. I want to see you all bright and early at 0600 tomorrow morning. Avril, you think you and Bandog have fixed up the planes enough to fly by then?"

Avril shrugged. "There's some more work to be done, but you can fly them with no trouble...just in case, though, I'll get up early and make some last minute adjustments." She stood up and stretched out, leading the way out of the room. "If that's gonna work though, I should get off to bed. Either that or pull an all nighter, not like I haven't done that before..."

"Hey, Avril, wait up!" Tabloid called out, pushing his way past everyone else to walk beside her. She stopped, turning around to look at him curiously. He caught up to her and chuckled awkwardly as they started walking again. "I'll...uh...I'll walk you back to your barracks. I could use the fresh air, anyways. And the company."

Naomi and Count looked at one another and Count stifled a laugh, turning it into an amused snort, but Avril sent them both a glare that quickly kept them from saying or doing anything else. She didn't seem bothered by his company, but she seemed to be trying to act disinterested. Shrugging, she continued limping forward as Tabloid quickly opened the door and held it open for her. "Alright, well, it's your choice," Avril said to him, fighting a smile herself. "Honestly, the walk is boring. I could use some good conversation."

Everyone began to follow them out, Count among them, but Naomi hurried after him and grabbed his wrist, stopping him. He looked back at her, confused. "Trigger? What're you doing?"

She wasn't quite sure herself, so she let go of his wrist and pulled her hand back, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I just...I wanted to talk to you, and we're both headed in the same direction, sooo..." She wasn't sure where to go with her defense from there, and he was giving her an amused and possibly suspicious look now. Naomi took a deep breath and started to walk, motioning for Count to follow her. "Just walk with me, Count. We haven't been able to talk one on one in a while, and I thought it might be nice. And I...I'm not really ready to be alone right now. Makes me sound kinda childish, but..."

He cut her off as he followed after her. "Not really. I get that you're stressed and on edge. We all are. I could use the company myself."

As the door to the briefing room shut behind them and they started down the hall, Naomi could only think about the dogfight from the day before. No matter what, the image of Count getting hit refused to leave her mind. She hated being able to remember things so well, especially when most of what she ended up remembering the most vividly were events she wished had never happen. "You did a good job during that dogfight with those siblings," Naomi said to him, and he glanced at her but said nothing, allowing her to go on. "I mean...I've never seen you fight like that. You had one too many close calls, and I was about ready to strangle you, but...you pulled through."

Count chuckled. "What, you actually expected something less of me? It's about time I started getting some credit around here, and maybe Wiseman's going to take a step in the same direction you have." What he said made him seem a little irritated rather than grateful, but he went on and she wasn't about to interrupt him. In fact, he seemed in a much better mood as he kept talking. "Besides, that was an easy fight. They seemed to have a crush on you until I worked my charms on 'em. They fell right into it, without even realizing it. Bet they don't think I'm a wuss anymore, huh?"

"Considering what happened to them, no...they probably don't." Naomi smiled, but she didn't laugh like Count attempted to.

As they stepped outside, they were greeted by a chilly breeze in otherwise warm weather. The temperature was continuing to fluctuate, but it wouldn't be long before fall temperatures set in and everything on their end was cold. Osea had already slipped into fall weather, and Erusea probably was already facing the cold as well. The rest of the continent was slowly following suit. In the meantime, they could enjoy the in-between that they had now. It wasn't Naomi's preferred time of the year, but anything was better than being stuck in ninety-something degree heat, so she'd take whatever change she could get. It honestly wasn't that much of a bother to her, or anyone else from what she'd seen.

Although silence fell over the two of them for a few minutes, the sounds of nearby insects and bats and the distant chatter of their squadron mates further ahead being the only thing disturbing said silence, it wasn't awkward. It was almost comfortable, but Naomi still felt as though she needed to keep talking. After finding the right words, that's just what she did. "I feel like I should probably thank you. Not just for having my back these last few days, but for not getting yourself shot down," she said. "If I'd lost anyone I...well, let's just say I've had enough of watching my friends and wingmen die, especially when there was something I could have done to prevent it. I'd have probably lost it if you or Lanza or Húxiān had gone down."

"You'd be fine without us, Trigger," Count said, almost dismissively. "Besides, this thing ain't over yet. We've still got to get rid of that sub, then we have to capture Farbanti." He suddenly grinned, blue eyes lighting up as he did so. "So why don't you save your thanks for later, once I'm finished kicking everyone's ass out there? Then I'll take all the praise you can throw at me."

Naomi tried not to laugh, but she failed, giving his arm a playful shove as she finally broke. "Yeah, don't bet on it, asshole!"

They reached the barracks still laughing, although it slowly died off as they stepped inside. They made it to Count and Tabloid's room first, and Count seemed almost disappointed as he stopped in front of their door. "Well, wish I could stick around longer, but we both need the sleep. _You_ especially," he said, giving her a pointed look. For once, Naomi didn't argue with him. Everyone had refused to let her have caffeine ever since she'd gone to the doctor after their meeting with Clemens, so she had a higher chance of going to sleep but it also made her exhausted. More than she had been. Count ran a hand through his hair and opened his door, pausing before he closed it though. He looked back at her and gave an awkward chuckle. "Goodnight, Trig."

She smiled, giving him a halfhearted wave. "Goodnight, Count. I'll uh...I'll see you in the morning."

"See you then." He nodded and returned the smile, quietly closing the door. Naomi heard the door finally click as it was closed all the way, and reluctantly headed back to her own room, fighting the urge to knock on the door and ask to keep talking. For some reason, she just wanted to be near Count, but it was late and everyone was right. They needed the rest.

In a short, five minute walk at the most spent in complete silence, she reached her room, opening her door and turning on the lights as she stepped inside. She let go of the door and let it shut on its own. Too tired to do much else, she changed out of her flight suit and into the military issued sleepwear that she'd been stuck with for the longest time. Cutting out the lights, she curled up in her bed and stared at the wall, honestly wishing she'd had more time for conversation. A sense of loneliness started to creep up, and all she did was bury her head in her pillow to force it out of her mind until sleep finally took ahold of her.

* * *

**Farbanti, Erusea.**  
_**September 12th, 2019.**_  
**0900hrs.**

Rosa stood out in her family's garden early in the morning as Leo raced around, doing his business and getting some exercise in. Henri stood nearby, barely paying any attention to the dog and more on his surroundings. It seemed as though Leo was content with that, continuing his race through the grass, steering clear of any flowerbeds. Rosa eyed him, but the sound of heavy vehicles driving nearby brought her and Henri's attention towards the roads on the other side of the iron fence around the garden. The roads sat around the rest of the grounds, the garden being cut off from them, and unfortunately Rosa's beloved home was starting to look more like a war zone than it had before.

The submerged area on the very edge of the city, near the crater that had flooded the district, several Erusean ships were moving in to use the area as cover for a time. Tanks and anti-aircraft weapons and vehicles were being scattered throughout the city, and they were beginning the evacuation of the city on Saturday, sending all civilians to any nearby cities they could. Some had already packed up and left the city when the soldiers began moving in. Many of them agreed with Parrish's view, and Rosa found herself mistrustful of the commanders that were hanging around more and more frequently and speaking with the general after his visits with her father.

As a couple of soldiers began shouting orders back and forth, Leo paused at the gate to the garden and curiously poked his head between the bars, letting out a small whine that turned to a frustrated and excited bark. The soldiers looked over at them, looking as though they were surprised for a minute but slowly seeming happy by the dog's input. Rosa, on the other hand, didn't want to draw more attention to them than they had to, and from the look on Henri's face she could tell that he thought the same. "Leo!" Rosa called out to him, clapping her hands together to get his attention. "Leo, come here, boy! Come to me!"

Leo pulled his head from between the bars and straightened up, looking at her curiously. She called his name again and he turned to glance at the soldiers once more before barking and sprinting over to her and Henri. He slowed himself down, trotting over to her before coming to a halt and sitting right in front of her feet. "Good boy," Rosa praised him, carefully crouching down and petting him. He wagged his tail, happy with the attention, and Rosa couldn't help but chuckle as he shoved his head against her hand, begging for more attention. She scratched him behind his ears before standing up, picking up a ball from nearby and throwing it for him.

Henri smiled as they watched Leo spin around and chase after it. "Well, at least one of us is able to act as carefree as always," he said, and Rosa looked at him curiously.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked him, keeping a small, innocent smile.

"You can cut the act with me, Your Highness. I practically helped raise you. I can tell when you're stressed or upset about something, and I'm afraid that you've been like this for some time now," he replied, his own smile fading back into a blank expression. "Even on a day like this, when you're meant to unwind and relax, you're still worried. You're frustrated and on edge, not to mention you and your father haven't spoken much lately. They've got you in over your head and refuse to give you any help, so you just keep trudging through like nothing's wrong. But...it's really not my place to say any of this. Alas, it seems I have a bad habit of saying too much."

"You can be honest with me, Henri. I don't mind it. Like you said, you did practically help in raising me," Rosa said, nervously rubbing her arm as a chill ran down her spine. It was chilly that day, and she'd put on leggings and a long sleeve blouse that day, not to mention the sweater she'd grabbed before going outside. But even with that, she found herself shivering slightly. It wasn't because of the cold, rather it was caused by her nerves. That was all she could think of to explain it. "It's just...I feel as though no one wants to listen to me. They're treating me like I'm a child. It makes me wonder why they even bother including me in anything. And at this point, I don't want this war to continue much longer. But I don't know what to do to help end it. And now this?"

Exasperated, she gestured to the military vehicles and the tents they were setting up to store more weapons. Henri looked over at them, but he didn't say anything at first. He sighed. "Things do seem to be getting worse and worse for Erusea, don't they?"

"I can't visit any of my friends because I'm tied down here, and I can't even go to the park to clear my mind because the military is setting up there as well," Rosa said, trying to keep her cool. She was overwhelmed, and she hated sounding like a little girl, but she didn't know how else to put it. "We're losing this war, all because we're relying too much on drones. General Shilage is a great pilot and a war hero. And to just let him waste away to improve the drones? I don't see how it's fair to him. Or to his granddaughters. At this point, Parrish is allowing our military to continue fighting a losing battle, and their morale is poor thanks to Osea's new ace. We've made our point, so what reason is there to keep fighting?"

"From what I can tell, it's just human nature to fight, even if we don't have a chance of winning," Henri said, taking a deep breath. "I may have said it before, but it's true. It's always going to be true. But even if there doesn't seem to be a chance, there's no reason to just give up."

Rosa looked at him, then looked back out at the garden and at Leo. She didn't quite understand. "But this war is starting to look more and more pointless, don't you think? What is the point to keep fighting and shedding blood when it would make more sense to end it now?"

Henri gave her a kind smile, his voice gentle as he said. "There's more than one way to fight, Your Highness. It doesn't always mean throwing yourself into harm's way, although sometimes it's necessary."

"Vague as always. I guess it's time I started figuring things out for myself, though, so perhaps it's for the best," Rosa said with a sigh, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her hands and crossing her arms, bringing them close to her body and shivering as a cold wind hit them both right in the face. It was from the north, likely bringing colder weather with it. She wanted to go inside instead of remaining out in the cold, but Leo needed to get his excess energy out. She couldn't take him on a proper walk, so this was all she had. "I wish at least one of you could make things easy for me."

"Well, what's life without a couple of challenges?" Henri asked with a playful gleam in his eyes. "Besides, you've always been clever. You can decipher it just fine."

The door opened behind them and Henri was the first to see who it was, immediately going on the defensive and placing his hand on his hip for easy access to the gun he carried. He was just as quick to relax, and Rosa turned to see who had come to join them. She was surprised and somewhat disappointed to see that it was her father, and barely acknowledged his presence as she looked back at her dog. Leo had stopped what he was doing only to see who the newcomer was, and promptly returned to his playtime without much more regard for the king than Rosa had. Henri looked between the two of them and took a couple of steps away from Rosa, allowing her father to take the spot beside her.

"Good morning, Father," Rosa said to him with a quick nod, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "I thought you would be busy with meetings all day."

"That's actually what I came to talk to you about," the king said, perhaps a little uncomfortable by the obvious tension. Rosa relaxed her posture a bit, feeling somewhat guilty for how she was treating him, but she didn't say anything. Her father rightfully took her silence as an invitation to explain himself. "I'm heading downtown to meet with Parrish and some admirals to discuss this business with the Alicorn and Captain Torres. Osea has contacted us, asking for the specifications of the sub so that they can know it's weak points. They have good reason to believe that their capital is the target. I already know what Parrish's stance on it is, but it's my decision and word that's final...it's going to be a day or so before the process is completed, but still...I wanted to consult you on it."

Rosa's eyes widened and she turned to face him at last. "You...you want to know what I think we should do?"

"You've been very passionate about things lately, and I've been dismissing your ideas. Your mother and I had a conversation about it the other night, and I figured I should listen to your opinions and take them into consideration," her father said, absentmindedly fidgeting with his tie. Rosa, out of habit from when she was much, much younger, quickly and abruptly began to straighten out his collar and fix his tie from his fidgeting, forcing him to stop messing up his appearance. He let his hands fall to his side and wore a look of amusement and annoyance. "Speaking of your mother, she's starting to rub off on you. Would the two of you stop fussing over me all the time and just let me be?"

"I can try, but I can't say the same for Mother," Rosa replied, letting out a soft laugh and backing off from him, letting him dust off his jacket on his own. "So...about my ideas? You're willing to hear me out before you go?"

"Actually, you're welcome to go along with me or you can stay here. Either way, the choice is yours," her father said.

She nervously bit her lower lip, and then stopped, not wanting to turn it into a nervous habit. Rosa shook her head. "No, I won't go. I need a break, at least for today. I'm not really sure I'm interested in hearing any more of General Parrish's ideas, either."

Her father didn't look as understanding as she expected, and there was a look of disappointment in his eyes as soon as she said that, but he said nothing against it. "That's your decision, then. In the meanwhile, what do you think we should do? Depending on what the naval officials say, I might be able to present the idea and get everyone to agree on it."

"I think..." Rosa began, pausing to think through her answer. She glanced at Henri and he gave her a smile and an encouraging smile, prompting her to go on. It was a bit of a long shot, but she knew she had to try it. At the very least the idea would show Osea that they weren't as stubborn or prideful as they'd set out to portray themselves, and it might ease negotiations. "I think we should give Osea what they want. The submarine mutinied, so it isn't much good to us now. It's our enemy as much as it is their's and they deserve a fair chance at beating it. Not only that, but civilians are the captain's target. While it would be the perfect revenge for their attacks at the start of the war, it would be a petty move to withhold information like this from them. So...ultimately it is your choice. A choice of how honorable a king you wish to be, because you're not only reflecting Erusea but you're reflecting our past rulers and our family."

He studied her face for a moment, and Rosa herself was surprised by what she'd said. She didn't realize she'd had that in her, and yet it all just came out. At last he nodded and gave her a small smile. "You make a very valid point, Rosa. And I'll pass it on to the best of my abilities. But I can't make you any promises."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to think about what I said."

"And that I will," he said with a nod. He checked his watch and then turned away. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I should be on my way now. We'll see what the others think and go from there. Goodbye Rosa. Henri."

The king nodded to each of them, and they both bid him farewell, watching him hurry back inside and slam the door shut behind him. Henri and Rosa both remained where they were, Rosa feeling as hopeful as she had before all of the stress came along. Henri, on the other hand, seemed to be the more skeptical all of a sudden. He tilted his head to one side, a small smile on his face. "You do know that there's no guarantee that the others will share your view? Least of all Parrish?" he asked her. "Your father could very well not pass along your statement, and he might go with whatever the majority rules."

Rosa nodded, taking a deep breath. "That's very true. But...the fact that he was going to take my opinion into consideration is a step in the right direction, don't you think?"

"Well, yes. But I'd keep my guard up, Your Highness," Henri advised her. "If Parrish gets overruled, he might have it out for you more than he already does. And it's my job to protect you from any threats, whether they're our enemy or one of our own."

"I pray that it doesn't come to that, Henri. We shouldn't turn on one another," Rosa said, but she was feeling some doubt. There was already a divide within their government and military. How long before that came to blows? How long before the lines between friend and foe became blurred? But Erusea was a resilient country, and she knew that her father would never allow such a thing to happen. She would never allow such a thing to happen. And whatever other agenda Parrish had, he'd give away on his own. She took a deep breath and turned away from the door, looking back out at the soldiers at the road. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that we won't be forced to hurt one of our own. We're higher than that."

"I hope that you're right, Your Highness. But one can never be too careful. And you're only one person," Henri said to her. "You shouldn't bite off more than you can chew. Nor should making enemies become a habit."

"I'm avoiding that as much as I can, Henri. Parrish sees me as nothing but an enemy, though, and I have no idea what the public or Osea must think of me. The enemies I've made haven't been on purpose," Rosa said, tugging at her sleeves distractedly. "I wouldn't underestimate what one person can do, though. If General Shilage can become somewhat of a one man army, and if Three Strikes can bring havoc upon our forces, not to mention the aces before or after them, then I'd say one person can do more than enough."

"They're _soldiers_," Henri replied. "I'm only trying to look out for you. It's my job. But I don't want you thinking that you can fight like them. Words are weapons just as much as a missile is one, and you should use your strengths. It just so happens that words are your strength."

"Then I shouldn't have much trouble. I just have to wait until the time is right," Rosa argued, almost desperate for some support from Henri. In spite of their different positions, he was so much like family to her and she would always respect his input on things.

Henri sighed, shaking his head, but he wasn't interested in arguing any longer. "Whatever you do, Your Highness, I just hope that you're careful."

Rosa gave him a grateful smile. "No need to worry, Henri. I will be."

She looked up at the sky, almost longing for the freedom she'd heard that so many pilots had. This war needed to end, if not for her sake then for everyone else's. And at this point, she knew for a fact that she didn't care who the victor was, be it Erusea or Osea. So long as no one else had to suffer. But that possibility still seemed so far away. She wondered if it would be the drones that General Shilage was helping to program or Three Strikes that would bring the victory to their country. She continued to wonder if this Three Strikes understood the same pressure she was under, being a symbol of hope and admiration for so many. And maybe now, even for Rosa. She felt guilty for thinking that, but it was true. She just wished she knew more.

_I wish I could _do_ more. But this is all I have, for now_.

* * *

**Fort Grays Air Base, East of Usea.**  
_**September 13th, 2019.**_  
**1200hrs.**

Everyone gathered in the briefing room, everyone discussing what could possibly be going on. Knocker was less than enthusiastic about it, figuring that the hype built up around this event wasn't necessary. They likely weren't going anywhere or doing anything important, and yet everyone seemed excited by the order to come in. There had even been some chatter and rumors among the maintenance crew that something big was going to happen, but Knocker had learned over the past few months to not get his hopes up. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for those under his command. While Clown was still hopeful and yet skeptical at the same time, Boggard and Footpad were insisting that they were all going to be in on something big. Faun was the only one sharing in Knocker's doubt, but it seemed that even he was showing some eagerness.

Beside Clown on Knocker's other side, Blaze and Grimm sat side by side, Grimm's hand resting on Blaze's knee with her own hand on his. Knocker had to admit, they made a nice couple, but he had to hope that they wouldn't let their relationship get in the way during a mission. Sure, they weren't official military...hell, they were half of the freaking Ghosts of Razgriz...but Knocker had to have their best interest's at heart. Clown reassured him that any personal relationships they had were set aside during missions, something he'd observed both now and during the last war. They did follow orders well, and their banter was entertaining to listen to, so all Knocker could do was hope that nothing would jeopardize his squadron's safety during the mission.

"Quit lookin' so down for once." Clown's voice startled him, and he turned to face his friend in surprise and confusion. Clown wore a smirk on his face, showing his usual odd amusement. There was some concern in his eyes, perhaps annoyance as well, but it faded as he started talking. "The colonel told us to standby for any further updates. We're probably gonna to get to lend a hand in something important at last, especially with that submarine on the loose. We may even get to see Trigger again. So, why can't you show _some_ enthusiasm?"

"Because there's nothing to be enthusiastic about," Knocker replied, crossing his arms and remaining stiffly seated instead of relaxing like the others. "We could just be getting an update on the situation and I don't want everyone getting their hopes up for nothing. We've been stuck on the sidelines, so why would they suddenly bring us on to an important operation?"

"Maybe because we've been doin' good in other places?" Clown suggested, but he didn't seem as convinced as he did before. "I'm still holdin' onto that theory that the only reason we've been stuck doin' unimportant stuff is because they're punishing us for the operation at the Lighthouse. They threw Trigger out and into prison and they punished us for screwin' up and not keeping a tighter leash on her. Seems likely to me, and even Faun agreed with it when Boggard brought it up. It's possible that they're trying to make up for it, but I guess I can see your point..."

"That's another reason not too get too excited," Knocker answered, recalling the comment himself. It had been a while ago though, and he'd forgotten about it until then. "We can never know for sure."

"But for the sake of keeping up morale, couldn't you just let them enjoy it?" Clown asked him. "If they see that something is off with you then they're going to be worried. Besides, you and I both agree that they should be allowed to enjoy themselves once in a while, after everything that's happened."

Knocker sighed, looking over at his three wingmen. They were eagerly talking about the briefing with each other, joking around a bit as well, their faces lighting up at the possibility of a real, exciting fight. They may have been tired with the simple operations they'd been getting lately, but the second the possibility of a high-stakes mission was brought up they acted like kids at Christmas. He shook his head, reluctant to agree with Clown's more patient and laid back approach but realizing that there was no real reason not to let them enjoy it. Still, he hated to see them get let down when things didn't work out. Finally giving in, Knocker nodded. "Alright, fine. I'll let them enjoy it. I still think it's foolish to let them get their hopes up like this."

If Clown had anything to say to continue the discussion, he didn't get the opportunity, as Colonel Beckett entered the room just as he opened his mouth. He cleared his throat, bringing everyone out of their own conversations and drawing their attention to him. Everyone straightened up in their seats, Blaze and Grimm letting go of one another's hands and the joking from Boggard and the others ceasing as he took his place with their AWACS at the front of the room. Clown chuckled and leaned over to Knocker to whisper to him, "Well, we'll find out if you're right shortly from the looks of things. Now won't we? I just hope you'll be willing to admit if you were wrong."

He said nothing in response, scowling as Clown leaned back in his own seat, satisfied that he'd annoyed Knocker enough. Beckett and Sky Keeper took a quick look around the room, making sure they really did have everyone's attention before the colonel began speaking. "I'm sure you're all curious as to why I've called you away from lunch for this," Beckett said, nodding to Sky Keeper to start up the computer and display the Usean continent on the screen. "As you all know, the advanced submarine _Alicorn_, which has been pursued by the Long Range Strategic Strike Group, has once again slipped out of our forces' grasp. Surveillance photos captured in Anchorhead by our ground forces show that it arrived shortly after Strider Squadron withdrew from the area and official word from the Erusean government is that the submarine has mutinied and its crew is acting on its own."

"Once again I find myself asking the same question," Boggard said suddenly, lifting his hand slightly to get Beckett's attention. "What does _any_ of this have to do with us?"

Beckett frowned, and for a minute Knocker was worried that Boggard was about to get chewed out for disrespecting him. Footpad and Faun both looked at him with disappointment, Footpad even muttering something to him. Boggard only shrugged, looking between them as if he was confused about their reaction to it. Beckett sighed, glancing at Blaze and Grimm with a look of exasperation before Sky Keeper quietly urged him to continue.

He went on. "Well, Lieutenant. Since you seem impatient today, I suppose I can skip the lengthy explanation. If only for your attention span's sake," he said to them, causing Knocker to roll his eyes and glare at Boggard. Beckett looked over some papers and then pointed to the spot on the screen that Sky Keeper had highlighted. "The LRSSG is planning to locate the submarine and conduct an air operation to destroy it. The intel is that the _Alicorn_ is carrying nuclear weapons and intend on attacking the capital, Oured. Given that our base have the aircraft capable of detecting the submarine underwater and that Fort Grays is one of the closest, we've been asked to assist on the operation."

Everyone looked as though they couldn't believe what they were just told, and even Knocker was taken aback by it. He looked over at Clown, who was equally as shocked but put that aside long enough to give Knocker a smug smile. So Knocker was wrong. Either way, this was what they'd been waiting on for some time now. A chance to get into some real work and now they had an opportunity to fly with Trigger again? To see how she was doing? Knocker felt so guilty for what had happened and he knew that everyone would like to see her again, to be around their friend and former squadron mate. He tried to keep his own surprise and optimism at bay as he asked, "So when are we leaving? When is this operation going down?"

It was Sky Keeper that answered him. "Tomorrow. You'll be flying out tomorrow morning and grouping up with Strider Squadron to refuel, then you'll head on to the location the _Alicorn_ is believed to be at," he explained to them. "Since the LRSSG's AWACS, Long Caster, and their company commander, Major Wiseman, will be overseeing the operation and monitoring the airspace, I'm only going to accompany you halfway. We'll then turn around and head to an allied base before stopping at New Arrows Air Base to rest and hopefully celebrate the mission's end. After that, we're all to return here to Fort Grays and await our next operation. I think that covers about everything. Any other questions?"

"None from me," Knocker said. He looked to the others. "You guys?"

They all shook their heads, and Beckett gave a nod of approval. "Alright then. That covers it. I need you all to prepare for a long flight and a long battle. Stay alert and focus on the bigger picture. We're helping to save countless people, countless innocent people. You're protecting your country and our citizens for real now. This is what you signed up and trained for. Go and make us proud. Dismissed." As they all stood up to leave, just before they reached the door, Beckett called out to Blaze and Grimm. "Hamilton, Grimm. Hold on for a second." The group stopped and both Blaze and Grimm turned to look at him curiously. He looked concerned and almost fearful for a moment, but he took a deep breath and finally said, "Be careful kids. I want all of you coming back, and I want you two to make sure that happens. You got me?"

The couple looked at each other and smiled at Beckett. Grimm was the one that answered him. "Don't worry. We're not gonna let you down."

"You better not," Beckett said, fighting off a smile. He finally cracked, allowing a grin, and shook his head, motioning for the door. "Now get outta here. You've got to get ready for tomorrow."

No one argued with that, everyone practically running out of the briefing room. Boggard, Footpad, and Faun all three whooped as soon as the door to the room shut, Boggard literally leaping with joy. Clown, Knocker, Blaze, and Grimm all chuckled at the display as their younger companions continued their mini celebration. "I can't believe it!" Boggard said with a laugh. "Can you believe it? We're gonna hunt down a submarine! This is like something straight out of a Tom Clancy novel! And not only that but we're gonna see Trigger again! God, you think she remembers us now that she's all big and bad and doin' stuff like this everyday?"

Footpad chuckled. "I don't think she'd forget us. I mean, she and Brownie were like our little sisters. Trigger wouldn't just forget us, especially with how long we've known one another."

"Besides, she's too nice for that," Faun said. "I'm more curious to see how she's holding up in the spotlight. Never was one to be the center of attention."

"She was a showoff though. Even if she didn't intentionally seek out the spotlight, we all know she didn't really mind having it on her either," Boggard pointed out, and this was definitely the happiest Knocker had seen his men in a long time. Boggard eagerly went on, glancing over his shoulder at the briefing room door as they set off down the hall. "Boy, does she have some stories to tell us. And we have some tales, too! I can't wait to see her, and get our gang back together. It's gonna be great flying with her again. Y'know, maybe that grouchy old commander isn't so bad after all..."

"Firstly, you sound like a child, Boggard," Footpad said with a playful look on his face. He laughed as he finished, "Secondly, of course you'd only like him when he gives us something you want to do. You're such a two-faced bastard sometimes!"

At this, Boggard playfully shoved Footpad which led to a small scuffle as the two of them roughhoused a bit. Clown laughed at their antics, but one warning look from Knocker and he was kind enough to intervene, giving Knocker a chance to stop being the peacekeeper for once. "Alright, settle down, y'all. We've got a lot of work to do to get ready."

Knocker nodded in agreement, deciding to step in himself. "Clown is right," he said, crossing his arms as they stepped outside, Grimm holding the door open for them. "We can't take this situation too lightly. I don't want anyone letting their guard down and I want you to prepare for everything. We're not taking any chances, so study up when we're done at the hangar." Everyone sounded off that they understood, returning to their celebration. Knocker was taking this as seriously as he could, but even he had to admit that he was going to be happy to see Trigger again. And from the look on Clown's face, the same went for him. But there would be time for that. For now, they had a sub to chase. They needed to be armed to the teeth. Surely Trigger and Strider Squadron could handle a bit of friendly competition? After all, they were on the same level now.

It _would_ be good to see her again. He only wished it could have been under better circumstances.

* * *

**Oured, Osea.**  
_**September 14th, 2019.**_  
**0813hrs.**

David paced around his office, setting down his half full cup of coffee on his desk. The issues they were all facing were obvious, and there was in fact a fix for them, but he had to be the one to find the required solution. He glanced at his desktop on his computer which was cluttered, several photos and files open and scattered on top of each other. His chat with Alex was empty for the morning, mainly because he was trying to think carefully before he gave the AI any instructions. She was finishing up a simulation he asked her to run, but it wasn't anything extravagant.

The problem he was facing was one of heroes and villains. As far as he could tell, that was why Brigadier General Clemens had joined forces with Captain Foulke's old commander from her time in the penal unit. Because Three Strikes was becoming a hero to some, even bringing hope to some Eruseans to an extent. But after the war, after all the things she'd seen, there was no guarantee that she wouldn't fall down the same path that Captain Torres had taken. Once a mighty, noble hero. A kind and loyal person. One slip up led down a dark path. One that wasn't simple to recover from. And with someone as powerful as Three Strikes, which Torres was, there were few ways to stop them once they made their decision.

He sighed and began voicing his realizations aloud. Mostly to himself, but Alex picked it up. "Some individuals are exempt from rules that should apply to everyone." David stopped pacing, approaching his desk and pulling the window that held a picture of Three Strikes' tail markings and her ID photo beside that, both images side by side with Torres' photo. He took a seat. "A hero is suddenly a risk factor the moment the war is over, having known nothing but chaos for so long. There's no way to know whether they'll fall into a darker place. So you murder him or her. Crude, but effective."

Turning his chair towards his chess board, he moved a black piece and the one he considered the _Alicorn_ in this back and forth game, knocking out a white pawn in the process. "In reality, they've no need for living heroes..." It was a difficult thing to say, and he felt horrible now that he truly understood the weight of his own words and the only thing that could come next. His shoulders fell. "Just dead ones..." Observing the board, he realized that black was incredibly close to winning. A few more moves and the white king would be in checkmate. There were a handful of moves he could try that would in fact change the tide of this mock battle, but they required careful planning and execution.

Picking up the piece he originally dubbed 'Three Strikes', he rolled the white chess piece in his hand and studied it carefully, not taking his eyes off of it. Something wasn't right. Something wasn't fitting together. It wasn't meshing. David finally glanced at his computer, leaning back in his seat slightly. "Here's a question, Alex," he said, still moving the piece in his hand. A nervous movement, something to occupy his mind with. Before he asked the question, though, he looked back at the board. "Can we stop Captain Matias Torres?"

Alex responded after a short pause, processing the question. At last she replied, as usual, rather blandly and robotically. "Outcome depends on if you treat the captain or Three Strikes as a singularity."

"Both are." David said, making his move with the chess piece, wiping out a black pawn and prepping his move to take out the 'Alicorn piece'. The stage was set, and the king was safe for a little longer anyways. David continued, working out his next move as he spoke. "But that's part of the problem. They're both singularities. What happens when two singularities exist on the same field? What happens when a twisted game like this goes on for too long, with no logical or properly predictable outcome?"

There was an almost disappointed chiming sound from Alex's end, indicating an error or problem with the question. She replied. "That requires seven months calculation with current resources."

"We'll just have to trust the guys in the field, then." It was David's turn to be disappointed, and he pushed himself away from the chess board, pulling up the recent file that those in charge of defense sent him. It was of the _Alicorn's_ specifications, and he began to look over them, getting back to work. Briefly he looked out his apartment window. Outside, people were continuing about their day like it was any other weekend, taking their kids to the park downtown or running any necessary errands, be it on foot or driving. It was a normal, chilly Saturday morning. David couldn't help but feel like there was a weight on his shoulders. Unintentionally out loud, he mused, "No one has any idea of what is coming. That today could be their last day. And the pressure is on us to keep them safe."

It actually wouldn't be long before people were gathered in the streets, protesting the war and/or preparing to celebrate the end of the last Usean continental war. Odd to David, considering that there was minimal Osean involvement in that war, aside from a rumor that Mobius One had been Osean. David didn't know much about that, though, not having been interested in going through personnel files so much as he was interested in the upgrades made to the aircraft that Mobius One flew. Still, everyone in this city was at threat and there was no way to postpone the events of the day. Children, families, pets, soldiers...everyone. If they messed up this operation, all of them would be gone in a matter of minutes. Osea would never recover from a blow like this. Torres was a monster that had to be slain.

Alex's voices broke through his thoughts, drawing his attention back to his computer. "David, evacuate."

The suggestion (or possible order, knowing Alex) caught him off guard, and he stared wide-eyed at his computer screen, focusing on the chat. Perhaps that was the better option, the smart option, and although David's self-preservation instincts tried to tell him to consider the idea, he just couldn't leave. He couldn't let the LRSSG or his country down. All those people would be let down. He shook his head. "No." David stubbornly decided, narrowing his eyes on the _Alicorn_'s specifications, taking a deep breath. "I still have to finish up here. Major Wiseman and Captain Foulke are counting on me. I'm not going to let any innocent people die because of this madman."


	34. Of Monsters and Men

Chapter Thirty-Three: Of Monsters and Men

|...|...|...|

**New Arrows Air Base, East Usea.**  
_**September 14th, 2019.**_  
**1300hrs.**

|...|...|...|

They all knew what was coming. When they were all told to get ready for a briefing, it didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that something had come up. Something big. Today was the day that they were going to finally put an end to the _Alicorn_, and send it back into the depths where it belonged. Naomi knew it was a horrible way to go out, but the crew had made their bed and now it was time that they lay in it. Their target was Osea, and Naomi wasn't about to let them get away with it. So, as she was told, she reported to the briefing, taking her usual place between Count and Tabloid. She felt determined, and she'd slept better the previous night than she had in a while. She was ready, and by the looks of things, so were her wingmen.

It seemed as though everyone was holding their breath while they waited for the briefing to officially start. Long Caster was finishing up with something on the computer, meanwhile David was patiently waiting for them to finish up, watching silently. Skald and Lanza whispered something back and forth to one another, shortly before Fencer joined in. Jaeger shushed them just as Long Caster pulled up a 3D image of the _Alicorn_ on the display screen. Wiseman looked around as everyone went quiet. "Good. Now that everyone's here and we're done with our computer troubles, we can finally get started. Though I'm sure you all know why you're here. David, go ahead."

From the looks of things, David was in a rather good mood. "_I've got some good news for you all. The Erusean military finally sent over parts of the Alicorn's specs, as you can probably see for yourselves. More details than you're used to, right?_" he asked them as they all looked over the image on the screen. Plenty of text was displayed, with lines drawn to specific parts of the submarine. "It's basic capabilities were as we predicted. But what's interesting is...this over here." He typed something into his own computer, and the text around the Alicorn was swiped away as David zoomed in on the model. Part of the shiny, blue and white, mostly transparent model began to move. It looked as though a slab of the flight deck was raised up, looking like an odd, electronic cannon of some sort in Naomi's opinion. Like something out of a science-fiction film. Sure enough, her suspicions were confirmed as David explained it, the screen further centering on the cannon as a line of text appeared beside it. "_In addition to their main railguns, they have a 600mm/128 caliber rail cannon. The barrel of this thing exceeds 70 meters! Gotta admit, that's pretty cool, huh?_"

"Cool, but deadly," Naomi said, studying the model carefully, trying to pinpoint the best places to target. There was no guarantee that they could destroy the gun, so she knew she needed a backup plan. But for now, it was probably best to focus on one thing at a time. She leaned back in her seat, nodding at the screen. "So, what's the official word on the range of this thing? We looking at more or less from what we suspected after Anchorhead?"

David went on without any hesitation. "_It's range is over 3,000 kilometers._" The screen zoomed all the way out and overhead of the model, marking the range from 1,000 all the way out to 3,000. "_That matches what we calculated from the bombardment on Anchorhead Bay._" He zoomed back in on the cannon, now showing something being fired from it. It froze in midair, and David said, "_The mini nuke they seemed to have obtained has a yield of one kiloton._" The animation resumed and followed the projectile as it travelled to the 3,000 kilometer point and made impact on a small circle in the screen. "_It'll destroy anything within a 400-meter radius of ground zero. Casualties are to be in the tens of thousands._"

The area around 'ground zero' turned red, showing the estimated number of casualties at 200 meters and then the amount at 400 meters. Overall, the estimated number was a little over 82,000. The status was all the same, though. Their deaths would be instant. Not to mention countless people that might end up suffering after that. It would take Osea years to recover from a blow like that, and even then nothing would be the same. It was Skald that said what no one else would, though. "I know that some things are better left unsaid, but let me say it..." Skald said with a sigh, all of them taking the excuse to look away from the screen. "That's less damage than I expected."

"_Nice catch. Do you remember this speech?_" David asked them, nodding to Long Caster to pull up the sound file.

He did so, also bringing Torres' photo and information along with it. The recording began to play, and Naomi and the others all went silent as they listened to the ominous speech. "_This boat has the means to end this hideous war in a definitive and elegant manner. The world shall be horrified by the number of lives we will take. Only then will they let go of their weapons...weapons that would have taken the lives of ten million!_"

The recording stopped and the window with Torres' photo was closed, bringing the video call with David back to the front. "_The imagery invoked by those words and the actual predicted damage just don't match._"

"So, here's a question!" Count quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood, wearing a smirk. Naomi found herself grinning at what he'd said, trying not to laugh. Something about the delivery cheered her up, and Tabloid and even Avril cracked a smile at it.

"_Sorry, got no quizzes for you today_," David said with a chuckle as the screen moved away from the Alicorn, all the way back to the Usean continent. "_But moving on, I believe that they will launch the nuke on September 19th._"

Húxiān crossed her arms and huffed. "Why are you so sure?"

"_Because that's the anniversary of the end of the Continental War,_" David explained, and Long Caster moved the screen from the Usean continent over to Osea, displaying images of the city as they centered on the capital. "_Anti-war demonstrations and victory parades are in full swing in Oured, starting from today and going through until next week. There's about a million participants in total, and that number will rise on the anniversary._" Everyone let out a collective groan, but David quickly went on. "_However, this nuke isn't that powerful. They'd have to thread through the eye of a needle to achieve their desired result._"

"Terminal guidance would probably be needed," Tabloid said, leaning forward in his seat with a thoughtful look on his face. "Like they did over Anchorhead. It's precise and reliable based on everything we've seen."

"_Right_," David agreed. "_How do they intend to achieve it when even their GPS won't work, though?_"

Avril rolled her eyes. "You're all thinking way too much about this," she said.

Húxiān nodded in agreement. "She's right. If we just sink the submarine, it's problem solved."

"Crude, but effective," David said, an impressed look on his face.

Naomi and the guys all chuckled as Avril and Húxiān shared an annoyed look, almost seeming offended by David's comment. It was Húxiān that made it clear that she was taken aback by his assessment of her idea, echoing the word he'd used almost as a warning. "Crude?" she scoffed, and had David been standing in front of her he probably would have been a bit worried. But considering the fact that all she could really do to him was hang up, Naomi could tell he found the reaction more amusing than he did intimidating.

"_Alright, look at this. The _Alicorn's_ expected course._" David went on with the briefing, and the display moved between the Osean and Usean continents, highlighting several areas along the coast of Usea, in the Spring Sea. "_We know that it was off Anchorhead Bay and it has to get to Oured within range before September 19th. They must avoid being detected by Osea and its allies' sound surveillance system and ships. Erusea, although still technically their allies, are just as much a threat to them as Osea is, provided that some in Erusea's government recognize the captain's misguided plan._"

The screen was now covered in red and blue lines and digital arrowheads, both red and blue, with Oured covered with a transparent, red circle to show the range if the nuke hit Oured dead center. Through the mess of Erusean and Osean ships and surveillance systems, a pathway appeared and the camera zoomed in. David continued, while Long Caster was hurriedly updating the LRSSG's display as soon as new information came in. "_Taking into account its maximum operating depth, this is the only possible route,_" David explained, and a small arrowhead meant to represent the _Alicorn_ moved along the path until it reached a small square closer to Osea. "_The _Alicorn_ will move along the Azalea seamount chain and reach a rather blandly named body of water called PX80443_."

Long Caster pulled up an image of what Naomi guessed would be their operation area, the model of it circling and showing several rocks and small islands scattered on the surface. "_The waters here are shallow due to an undersea mountain range and nearby islands,_" David said, and the look on his face shifted from excitement and enthusiasm to concern, sighing before he went on. "_This is where it'll be. We also know roughly when they'll arrive in the area, and it gives you and your allies just enough time to reach it and take it down_."

Naomi's father, who'd been silently watching up front as usual, smirked and studied the screen for himself. "That's quite the prediction you have there."

David smiled and nodded. "_Indeed. But if it makes it through, then you're looking at Peony Trench._" The screen zoomed on the very edge of the area, showing a large red area running along the edge. "_The sub's max operating depth is 600 meters. Tracking it there would be impossible. Whatever you do, don't allow it to make it to the trench_." David looked to Wiseman and leaned back in his seat, reaching for his drink out of frame. "_Major, I'll let you take over from here._"

"Right. Thanks, David. I'll be giving you the mission details, so listen up." Wiseman stepped forward, clearing his throat. The screen zoomed back out to show the entire location, several blue blips appearing and fanning out as Wiseman began his half of the briefing. "Our mission is to cooperate with the International Union Peacekeeping Force's patrol aircraft to find the _Alicorn_." Naomi perked up upon hearing the mention of the IUN, and Count and Tabloid noticed this and gave her a curious look, but she held her tongue and let Wiseman continue. "In the first phase of the mission, multiple patrol aircraft will spread out and drop sonobuoys to build a sonobuoy barrier." He traced his finger along the screen, following the arrowheads representing said patrol aircraft as they went down a line, pinpointing the locations they would drop said sonobuoys. "Then, in the second phase, we narrow down the possible location of the _Alicorn_ by analyzing the data obtained from the sonobuoys."

The arrowheads came back down the line and covered the rest of the ground as the fleet and what Naomi assumed were their squadrons began to move forward. Wiseman motioned for Long Caster to zoom in and he chose a random spot, highlighting it as a 'probable location'. Wiseman then pointed to it and looked back at them. "The results of our analysis will be data linked and shown on an overlay on your radars. And for the final phase...Trigger, you're gonna look for the submarine."

Naomi looked between Wiseman and the display screen as she heard her name, noticing an arrowhead marked with her name moving towards the location on the screen. "So, I get to do the honors of finding our whale, eh?" she asked, rhetorically, but she still received a nod of confirmation from Wiseman. Her father looked over at her as if trying to look for something else in her reaction. However, Naomi was fairly determined and willing to do whatever it took to end this thing. She wasn't about to complain or show any sort of fear, even if the sub was terrifying to her. "How am I supposed to find it? Fighter jets aren't exactly made for underwater combat."

Long Caster was the one that stepped in to explain. "We've acquired one special MAD — a Magnetic Anomaly Detector — for this. It will be on Trigger's plane." He put something in to the laptop hooked up to the display screen, and Naomi's own little blue arrow began to fly in a circle around the area as Long Caster continued his explanation. "You're going to fly over where we expect the Alicorn might be. If the submarine is right beneath you, your MAD will detect it. You'll also have nautical charts on your radars, so use them."

Wiseman stepped in again, pointing out the fleet on the screen. "Once it's found, our fleet will commence a unified attack with ASROCs and sink it."

Fencer glanced at the others, almost looking concerned. "And if we miss?" he asked, keeping his voice level although there was something underneath it. Fear, perhaps, which was unusual for him.

David's face appeared back on the screen, much smaller than before and off to the edge of all of the maps. "Four ships will be joining the operation. There won't be a second salvo."

"Hmm. So who's flying, Wiseman?" Jaeger asked, nodding to the screen.

"Everyone except for myself and Tailor," Wiseman replied, crossing his arms.

"Whoah!" Lanza said with a chuckle, an excited look on his face. Everyone else shared in his excitement, except for a rather frustrated looking Tailor. Naomi almost felt bad for the kid, but he was better of staying on base, especially for this.

The Strider and Cyclops emblems appeared on the screen, the roster for each one below it, and Wiseman nodded to it before looking them over. "Trigger and Fencer will be leading Strider and Cyclops respectively, while I'll be remaining here with Tailor to monitor everything. When you get to the operation area, you'll be joining up with the patrol aircraft and two of the IUN's squadrons. There's gonna be a lot of people out there, and I want you all to have each other's backs. This is an order." He was fighting off a smile as he motioned to the door. "Now get your fat asses moving!"

No one needed to be told twice. Everyone scrambled to their feet and started towards the hangar to make some last minute preparations, but Naomi stopped and let the others run ahead. Count, Tabloid, and Avril stopped as well once they realized that she wasn't following them. She looked over her shoulder at her dad, Wiseman, and Long Caster. She even glanced at David once. The reason she stopped seemed unknown to her, but she waited for something. At last, her father gave her a small smile and nodded, his eyes almost lighting up. Any doubt or concerns about the operation ebbed away, even for just a little while, and she returned the smile, finally continuing on her way.

Her friends gave her a confused and curious look, but she brushed it off. Naomi grinned and put her arms around Count and Tabloid like she had done during the briefing before Operation Sighthound, when they'd first encountered the sub. "C'mon, guys, what're we waiting for? We've got a monster to slay! Let's go show those cocky bastards what the LRSSG can do!" Without any protest, the four of them made their way towards the hangar, Avril moving as fast as she could. Something about the operation sent a chill down Naomi's spine, and she felt excited and terrified all at once. They had more than just their superiors counting on them, and there was an added responsibility to the operation.

In their excitement and rush, Naomi never thought to ask who the two squadrons they'd be teaming up with were, but part of her was hoping, even praying that she might get to fly with her old squadron and wingmates again. And yet there was a part of her that knew that with something this dangerous, there was more risk than they'd had in a while. But she wasn't going to lose anybody. Today it was time to test if Tabloid's theory really, absolutely worked. Torres may have more power and motivation at his disposal, but the LRSSG had a better, stronger reason to fight. Their hunt was about to come to an end, and Naomi would happily be the one to deliver the final blow.

* * *

**Spring Sea, Usea.**  
**1700hrs.**

Torres made his way along the flight deck of the _Alicorn_, knowing that his magnificent submarine wouldn't be on the surface much longer and wanting some fresh air while it was available. SACS Squadron would be taking off shortly, waiting in the skies to face the pilot that they knew would be coming. Torres had been well aware that it was only a matter of time before Osea's military discovered their location, and it was almost exactly what Torres wanted. If he could put an end to Three Strikes then there would be no further challengers and their plan would go exactly according to plan. But from what was showing on their radars, it was going to be happening much sooner than he thought. _Perfect_.

As he approached the three aircraft with the intention of speaking to the pilots before they took off, Torres took in the sights and smells around him. The smell of the ocean and a crisp, early autumn breeze...it didn't get any better than that. He recalled his time aboard the Tanager, back when he could head out on deck whenever he pleased and enjoy the air and the view. As the sun was starting to set, it gave everything a bright, almost golden hue. Even the scattered, dark clouds didn't do much to detract from the afternoon's beauty. It truly was a spectacular sight. A shame to think that such a questionable act would soon take place, but sacrifices had to be made in order to end this disgusting war and Torres intended to end it so quickly and flawlessly that no one would ever care how he did it.

In spite of his efforts to savor his walk, he reached the pilots and the rest of the crew preparing the takeoff in a short time. He didn't say anything to them, but those that noticed him silently stood at attention, although they were quickly dismissed with a patient nod and a very small smile. There was only one pilot that he was interested in speaking with, and the young man was flying number two in the formation that was about to go up. The man in question was young, in his late twenties, brown haired and blue eyed. Although he was eager when it came to fighting and skilled at his job, Torres noticed that there always seemed to be something troubling him. Perhaps why he was so eager to accept what was essentially a suicide mission. They all knew they were sacrificial lambs, and they all had their own reasons for going along with his plan.

At first, the young man was completely focused on preparing his aircraft, and Torres waited a few seconds before calling to him. "Lieutenant Louis Barbieri?" he said, and the lieutenant was quick to turn around, startled by Torres' sudden visit. He saluted, a motion which was quickly returned by Torres, but he remained in a stiff position until Torres told him otherwise. "You can relax, Lieutenant. I simply wanted to see you off before our battle begins. There was something I wanted to ask you as well."

Barbieri looked confused, relaxing his position slightly. "Umm, of course, sir. Is something the matter?"

"Not exactly," Torres replied calmly, trying to think of a subtle way to bring it up. "I simply noticed that you have yet to sign a will. I wouldn't want your family to be left without, should you give your life for our cause."

An almost haunted look appeared on Barbieri's face. A look that quickly turned to guilt and fear, and a look that Torres knew well. Before Barbieri even answered him, he'd already guessed what he was going to be told. "I lost all my family in the war, sir. My parents, my sister...and my wife and daughters. They were killed on accident, in an air raid on Farbanti, back when the war began..." Barbieri replied, and he took a deep, shaky breath, adopting a stone cold expression as he straightened up. "I have nothing but our great kingdom and military to live for, now. And I will proudly give up my life for them, to bring justice for my family's death."

"You are a truly noble soldier, Lieutenant Barbieri. Fit to be part of our salvation," Torres replied, his smile widening. Barbieri's eyes flashed with hesitance, however briefly, and his confidence seemed to waver, but he was quick to regain it. Torres began to back away from the soldier and his plane. "Very well, then. If you have no one to write to, and no one to leave behind, then I won't stop you from fulfilling your goal as well as ours. You have my permission to take off."

"Aye-aye, sir!" Barbieri replied, quickly returning to going over his pre-flight checks.

Torres stood back on the deck, watching as the squadron prepared to take to the skies. The three pilots climbed into their aircraft, the man leading the formation shouting to them as they readied themselves for takeoff. "We're dead men walking, so we have no reason to fear death!" he called out to them, and Torres felt a rush of pride for the soldiers he had on his side. Loyal and obedient to the very end, as he believed a soldier should be. The flight leader continued. "Three Strikes revels in the killing, so catch her while she's at it!" He raised his voice to a furious shout, one that carried clearly on the wind. "Let's go! It's time to rip the wings off that degenerate, and take the dogs that she leads down with her!"

"For salvation!" The three pilots let out that final battle cry, and a few minutes later they took to the skies.

Once they were gone, Torres watched their planes group together and fly in perfect synchronization, back in the direction they had come from to face Three Strikes when she would likely, inevitably arrive. Once the sound of their engines had vanished, everyone prepared for the ship to submerge and Torres returned to his place at the bridge. When he finally got to the bridge, he found that the crew was already making preparations for their dive and the command duty officer jumped to his feet when Torres arrived.

The chatter and chaos among the crew as they began the final preparations began to die down, and the command duty officer was finally able to speak. "We've been monitoring the radar, sir, and we've detected a large group heading straight for us. At that size, we're guessing it could be a large fleet with air support," he explained quickly, following Torres as the two ventured further onto the bridge. "Should we clear the baffles, Captain?"

Torres thought for a moment and then shook his head as he came to a stop in front of his seat. "No. They won't chase by sea. Pursuers will be airborne, as we've gathered from previous operations. That should give us the advantage in a fight."

"As if we needed it. Or didn't already have it," the CDO replied smugly, and Torres couldn't help but chuckle a little as well. "They're probably going to be very frustrated. It'll be nearly impossible to find us in these open seas. I just hope their 'aces' are up to the challenge."

With that, the officer dismissed himself to tend to other duties as they began their dive. Torres took a seat, able to vividly remember the face of the famed Three Strikes from the file he'd read. She was young and inexperienced, but he knew he shouldn't underestimate her. He'd seen what she could do first hand, even if she was reckless and bad at strategy. This opponent of his was, although fierce, nothing that he couldn't handle. Three Strikes was basically a child that knew nothing of a real war or of real victory or even of real salvation. If SACS didn't do her in then Torres gladly would.

He scowled, staring ahead at the screens they had scattered around the bridge, showing footage from the lead plane and from a few of the UAVs they had sent up and the ones they'd be using for terminal guidance. They were ready. "Time to see how far you're willing to go to defend your precious nation," he sneered to himself, although the comment was directed at the Oseans that would be arriving shortly to his battlefield. "Come if you dare, Three Strikes, and face me like a real soldier..."

* * *

**1743hrs.**

Strider and Cyclops arrived over the Spring Sea in a matter of only a few hours, the question of who they were joining up with starting to spread throughout the group, a few people trying to think of what IUN squadrons they knew from past operations. Long Caster wasn't interested in telling them anything, probably getting a snack in before the operation started. Probably for the best, considering that it might be a while before he'd be able to eat again. Last thing they needed was him slipping up during the fight. As they came within visual range of their allies, Naomi was finally able to see how many were joining the operation. Four patrol aircraft and seven fighters, the fighters armed to the teeth just as Cyclops and Strider were.

It was then that Long Caster spoke up, silencing their off topic conversation as he announced their arrival to the other aircraft. "This is the LRSSG. Strider Squadron and Cyclops Squadron are entering the airspace. They'll be leading the operation for the most part," he said. Without waiting for anyone to say anything else, he skipped straight to the introductions and as he called out the names of the flight leaders to them, Naomi felt relief and pure joy hit her like a brick. "Trigger, I believe you're already familiar with Captain Turner and Captain Pierce. They're leading Golem and Mage Squadrons, and from what we've heard they're more than happy to assist in the operation."

Naomi couldn't help but laugh, feeling the grin spread across her face. She already had her suspicions, and she'd never been so happy to be right before in her life. "Holy shit, you've gotta be kidding me! It really is you!" she called out to them as Strider and Cyclops got into formation behind them, her wingmen all staying silent as they listened to the reunion of sorts.

"Well, nice to see you haven't forgotten about us, Trigger!" It was Clown that was the first to reply, sounding as though he was smiling as well. "We've all got a lot of catchin' up to do once we get this sub outta the way." There was a pause, and then he introduced his two new wingmen, though Naomi could already guess who they were based on what her father had told her. "It's not just us, either. I'm sure you remember your old friends, Kathryn and Grimm. Blaze, Archer, say hello to everyone!"

"C'mon, Clown, you know that Grimm gets shy around strangers. You shouldn't put us on the spot like that!" Kathryn, now flying in Naomi's place as Mage 2, answered first, not sounding as excited as Clown but still as friendly as Naomi remembered her. There was little protest from her husband, as he only let out an annoyed, very fake laugh. Kathryn ignored him and continued. "As a side note, we're both excited to get a chance to fly with you, kid. We're gonna have a helluva time keeping up with you, I can tell that much already."

"Let's see if you can live up to all those stories we've been hearing about you!" Naomi recognized the voice of Boggard, and his comment was followed up by Footpad and Faun scolding him for pressuring her. She knew that the others must be confused, but there would hopefully be plenty of time to explain things.

At last, Knocker spoke up. "Alright, everyone, get your heads in the game. There's a time and a place to goof off and reminisce, and right now is neither of those things. Let's not forget what's at stake here, alright?" he said, and Naomi actually for once didn't mind hearing him scold her old friends. Or even her, since he still had the authority to do so. What surprised her, though, was what he said next. "Trigger, we're following the LRSSG's lead on this one. Strider, Cyclops, and Long Caster, feel free to boss us around all you'd like. So long as you keep Specter Squadron safe and stop that submarine, I don't care what you do."

"All aircraft, listen up. You've entered the AO," Long Caster said to them quickly, and everyone was sure to listen to him. "Commence the operation and find the _Alicorn_. Good luck everyone."

Count chuckled. "Well, it's time for some treasure hunting, Trigger."

Lanza let out an excited laugh. "Oh, boy! I'm excited!"

"Yo, Count, Trigger! You up for some competition to lighten the mood or are we gonna be all business today?" Tabloid called out to them. Naomi looked over her shoulder to get an idea of everyone's location, finding that everyone was close together and still in formation. Tabloid and Lanza were obviously chomping at the bit, sounding as though they were ready to fly ahead of everyone and get straight to the fighting.

"A kill competition, eh?" Footpad's voice followed that, and Naomi, in spite of the situation, felt good about the operation. After all, she really did have all of her friends here. Footpad chuckled, something she hadn't heard in a while. "Ha! Y'know what, I like these guys already!"

"I'd be a little worried if you didn't," Fencer replied with a laugh. "After all, you're the guys that are watching our asses out here."

Naomi was about to say something, but Húxiān beat her to the punch, scolding the guys for their banter. "Hey! Stop screwing around! We can't afford to mess this up!"

Count let out an irritated sigh. "Jeez, don't be such a hothead, Húxiān. We all know what'll happen if we screw up..."

"Everybody calm down for a minute and get yourselves ready for a fight. It's just a matter of time before the enemy shows up, and I don't want you wasting your energy," Naomi said, trying not to let out a sigh of her own. Unfortunately, she had to keep a level head during the operation, at least at the beginning, as much as she hated it. Just a few minutes and she and the others could finally be let loose. "But, if anybody is interested and it gives you the motivation, by all means turn it into a competition. But for now...Specter Squadron, are you ready to get started?"

An unfamiliar voice belonging to a young man answered her. "This is patrol aircraft Specter 1. We're ready, ma'am. We'll deploy the sonobuoy barrier in just a moment!" The use of the word 'ma'am' caught her off guard, and as she had predicted it would, made her suddenly feel much older than she actually was. Truth be told, this guy was probably older than her by a couple of years. He went on, suddenly taking a darker turn than Naomi would have liked. "We're all prepared to buy the farm, and that's why there's so many of us..." he paused, almost nervously continuing. "According to calculations, just one needs to fly to locate it."

"Those aren't the sort of calculations we like, are they, Trigger?" Count asked her, adjusting his position on her wing slightly so that he was closer to her in the formation, preparing for when they'd finally break.

"You're right, Count. I don't like those calculations at all," Naomi said, once again realizing that she was going to be bearing the weight of just about everyone during this mission. Not only did she have her companions from the LRSSG, but the guys from Fort Grays were here, not to mention how many people were aboard the patrol aircraft. They couldn't just throw away those lives. "No one is going to buy the farm. We're all getting out of this alive, and I'm not letting anyone go down."

"Damn right!" Húxiān agreed. "Same for the rest of us, too!"

A beeping sound caught her attention and Naomi instinctively looked to her radar, noticing three new blips, all closing in on their allies. "Strider 1 to Long Caster, I've got some new blips on my radar, heading straight for us," she said, part of her comment being a warning to the others to get ready for a fight. "They're going pretty fast, so I'm guessing they're fighters. And I'm willing to bet that these guys aren't on our side."

"Confirming as hostiles. Looks like they're here, just as predicted," Long Caster replied. He updated their HUDs as the aircraft came into view, difficult to see against the sun, though. They looked like little birds, though Naomi knew they were a bit more of a problem then a couple of seagulls would be. Below them, the small fleet of ships that had finally caught up was at a risk of an attack from these fighters, and that would probably be one of their first targets. Long Caster at last finished whatever analysis had to be done of the newcomers. "They're definitely aircraft from the _Alicorn_! You're all cleared to engage!"

It was Wiseman's voice that she heard next, the major having been silently monitoring everything up until this point, alongside her father, Bandog, Avril, and probably Tailor back at the base. His voice was urgent, though, and he left no room for any question in his order. "Trigger, you take the lead! The fleet and the patrol aircraft must be protected. All aircraft, follow Trigger!" No one hesitated. Everyone sounded off, confirming that they understood and would follow the order. Wiseman seemed relieved but he maintained the urgency in his tone. "You all can make it, I know you can. We're all counting on you!"

Naomi slowly increased her speed to start with, wanting to test the engine a bit before she started to push it. Avril had warned her to take it easy on them, but that wasn't Naomi's style. Satisfied after just a few seconds, Naomi throttled up all the way and flew to the front of the formation. The enemy would be in range shortly, and she had barely a minute to figure out the best way to go about this. There were only three, so it would be easy. At least for the time being. Having to think faster than usual, she began reeling off her plan to everyone. "Count, you come with me. Jaeger, Húxiān, you two cover us in case they manage to get on our sixes. Fencer, you and Cyclops fan out in front of the formation in case something slips through. Mage Squadron, you three handle the sides and the rear. Golem Squadron, you cover the fleet for now. If anything changes, I want all of you ready."

"Wow, you really have gotten bossy, haven't you, Miss Bigshot?" To her surprise it was Faun that made the teasing comment, although not as snide as Boggard likely would have gone for. Still the more mature of the group, it would seem. He didn't argue with the order, though, and he followed Knocker and the others and lowered his altitude.

Just as she had ordered, everyone moved into position. Cyclops Squadron spread out, each one taking up a position in front of a patrol aircraft, still giving said aircraft enough room to avoid a collision. Clown and Kathryn covered the sides, flanking the formation. Grimm stuck to the trail position, which Naomi could only tell based on his position on her radar. He was pretty much perfectly in the back, lined up with her position. She didn't have too much time to be mildly impressed, as she and Strider had to get to work. Count stuck close to her wing, while Húxiān and Jaeger trailed behind them slightly, fully prepared to pick off the third fighter on their own if the need and opportunity presented itself.

Naomi went for the lead aircraft, she and Count promptly met by gunfire once they were within range. She got a missile lock, that much she knew, but right as she was about to fire the three aircraft pulled up sharply and climbed up above the clouds. Count had been quicker to react and fired, his missiles streaking underneath his target and towards the sea as he let out a furious and surprised growl. The enemy fighters, Rafales like the ones from Artiglio, had circled back around when Naomi and Count raised their altitude to meet them. They were tracking her on radar, and she grunted and pulled a high-G turn to get free of the lock they got on her.

They were faster and seemingly more determined than the ones Naomi had faced before, but after a bit of back and forth, Naomi finally got the upper hand. She followed the Rafale into the clouds as Count kept the second one off of her tail. Jaeger and Húxiān engaged the third and were working together to bring him down and herd him away from the patrol aircraft. Naomi's visibility was reduced in the clouds, and droplets of water spattered and rolled over her canopy as she tried to see through the mess. It was hard to get a steady lock on the enemy plane, what with his rolling every time she managed it. At last, they broke out of the clouds. Her line of sight cleared up and as soon as she heard a solid tone she fired a pair of missiles.

This time, the Rafale's pilot was not so lucky. He reacted too slow and miscalculated, one missile grazing him and the other striking his wing. Half of the wing was blown off, leaving a trail of smoke in its place. The aircraft, as expected, started to waver in its flight and began a downward spiral towards the water below. Naomi found herself waiting for the enemy pilot to eject. If he was going to punch out, now was as good a time as any. But he never did. Naomi watched the plane go down, the pilot going along with it, and felt a sudden sickness and dread building up in her stomach. He either died on impact or he'd drown. Not the best way to go out.

But there wasn't much time to feel sorry for the enemy, nor was there any time for her to start getting scared. The thought was a horrible one, but she had to get over it. Not like it was anything new. Pulling back around, she went to rejoin Count and the others, finding that they'd successfully shot down the other two planes. Jaeger delivered the finishing blow to the last Rafale, regrouping with Húxiān once he was done. "They must have been waiting for us in the air," he observed, almost bitter at the thought. "If that isn't some dedication to their mission, I don't know what is."

Strider Squadron circled around their allies as they waited for more enemies to show themselves, if any at all, as Specter Squadron announced that 20% of the sonobuoys were dropped. They were making good progress on their mission, but they couldn't let their guard down. Wiseman's voice came once again, however this time he wasn't speaking to them. "David, here's a question," he said to their analyst friend, adopting David's own catchphrase. "How many aircraft can the _Alicorn_ carry?"

David answered promptly, the first time they'd heard his voice since the briefing. "Twenty to thirty, depending on the type of aircraft, which I believe are mostly Rafales...but it's unconfirmed intel. Could be more...much, much more if they really pushed their luck." There was a certain heaviness to his words, one which Naomi didn't like, especially with how optimistic he'd been in the past. However, he was quick to return to his regular demeanor as he added, "But with Three Strikes on your side, you could reduce them to a single digit."

Naomi felt herself a bit embarrassed by the comment, wishing she could be as confident in her abilities as David seemed to think. She knew she was a good pilot, but all of those planes on her own? Definitely too much for her. She'd never be able to take all the credit, and she didn't want to. Count spoke up, sounding as cocky as ever, and voiced the thought that Naomi was too reluctant to share, "Well, I'm not sure it's gonna be just because of Trigger, but _those_ are calculations that I _do_ like."

A sharp alert sounded in Naomi's ear, bringing her attention away from her thoughts, and Long Caster's voice quickly followed. "We're detecting additional hostiles, and our analysis shows that they're UAVs! Intercept them, now!"

"Shit! They must have had more hiding!" Naomi spat, checking her radar and suddenly feeling very overwhelmed. The patrol aircraft had all spread further out, all of the allied fighters had spread out to follow them. There were three groups, all of them outnumbering their fighters.

"Trigger, can you get 'em?" Húxiān called out nervously.

Naomi realized that they had no choice but to break their original formation and spread out to attack. It left the patrol aircraft open and at a bit more risk, but it gave them a better chance of keeping the UAVs at bay. Was this how Wiseman felt all the time, overwhelmed by responsibility for everyone? Having to weigh the best options in a split second? She'd done it before, sure, but now there was a much larger group to keep tabs on. They had no other choice, though. "Everyone, spread out and attack the UAVs! Strider won't be able to reach them all on our own. You need to make sure not one of them slips through, otherwise it's game over. These bastards are slippery, so watch each other's backs!"

"Roger that!" was the reply from Knocker, Clown, and Fencer almost simultaneously. They moved away from the fleet and from the patrol aircraft, charging the enemy head on. Not that they were left with any other choice. It would be easy to corral them, but Naomi didn't think to try that. She would leave maneuvers like that up to their flight leads. They were smart. Once they got to them, she trusted them to lead their squadron in the most effective way and work together whichever way was best for them.

The UAVs may have been faster and more maneuverable, but she was pretty sure that they weren't autonomous. They were controlled. At least, that's what it sounded like from everything she'd heard. So their skill was only as good as the person controlling them, unlike the drones that Erusea had been deploying. A few of the UAVs were immediately picked off by the Osean fighters. From what Naomi could see, she'd knocked off two as Strider Squadron engaged their group, and Count got one at roughly the same time. Fencer and Tabloid were working together with one another on Cyclops' end and took out two each, Cyclops Squadron being the nearest to Strider. Meanwhile Lanza and Skald made a perimeter alongside Jaeger and Húxiān to catch any of the drones that tried to slip through.

Farther away, but still in visual range, Mage Squadron was hunting the drones like a pack of wolves. The movements Naomi caught glimpses of them doing were almost flawlessly pulled off between the three of them, as though they'd been doing this their whole lives. Clown and Kathryn would basically trap the drone between the two of them, countering its movements and keeping it within a certain area. Grimm would jump on it and deliver the finishing blow, either surprising it when it tried to dodge or waiting for it when it tried to escape into the clouds. They brought the number up once one was down, trying it with two, and then three. One for each of them.

She couldn't see exactly what Golem Squadron was doing, but it seemed to be going well on their end as Boggard let out a victorious howl. "Alright! That's three for me! We're catching up to Trigger and her squad now! You're all toast!"

"Umm, who's toast? Trigger's squadron or the UAVs?" Footpad asked, bewildered. Naomi would have liked an answer to that herself, but she was perfectly fine without one. It was nice to see that those two hadn't changed much, recalling how tense everyone was before she was shipped off for her trial. Boggard hadn't grown up any, Footpad was still a voice of semi-reason, and Faun was still the only one with a good head on his shoulders.

Boggard was quick to answer Footpad's question, sounding out of breath when he did as though he had just finished performing a difficult maneuver. "Trigger's squadron, you idiot. I mean, obviously the drones too, but we're not in a competition with them, are we?"

"We kind of are, though. I mean, if you really think about it..." Faun answered with a mild air of superiority, cutting himself off with a startled grunt as a missile alert blared in the background. Naomi felt a surge of anxiety as he went silent, but she didn't hear any announcement that he'd been shot down. A quick headcount and look at the radar told her everyone was fine and still flying.

Ignoring the banter from her old friends, she jerked her head around to try and get a visual on Count. There were two drones left for Strider, and she wanted to make sure they hadn't gotten the jump on Count. Or her. But Count was her main concern. Right as she was about to ask him where he'd gone, his plane shot up in front of her, neither coming close to colliding but it seemed he was going for the same UAV she'd had her heart set on shooting down. She wasn't about to let him steal her kill, not when there was a perfectly good one nearby (though Jaeger looked to be bagging that one). So she hit her afterburners, trying to get ahead of Count. They both ended up in lock on range at the same time, and although Naomi knew that she fired first, Count fired a few seconds after her and both missiles hit, making it hard to tell who shot it down first.

"That one was mine, Trig!" Count called out to her with a laugh. "Looks like the Count's gonna be number one today, eh?"

"To think you call _me_ the dumbass!" Naomi retorted as she and him flew side by side, returning to formation with their wingmen now that all the threats were eliminated. "That was mine and you know it!" Before Count could continue to argue, already telling that they could fight about this for the rest of the day, she offered a solution. "Okay, fine. Since no one can tell who shot it down, we both take credit for it. It's either that or no one gets it. So, what's it gonna be?"

It didn't take long for Count to make up his mind. "Fine. We both take the credit. Now let's hurry up and help the others out. Maybe then we won't be tied...I hate ties."

Húxiān let out an exasperated scoff. "Then shut up and shoot, genius!"

As usual, she sounded like a strict older sibling and kept Count from saying anything more. Likely because he didn't have an answer for her. There were only a couple of drones left, all the way over at Specter 2's position with Golem Squadron. Boggard and Faun were fighting off one, while Knocker had downed the another a good distance away. Footpad was trying to get a pair of drones off his tail, struggling against the wind and trying to lure the UAVs away from Specter 2, but they kept stubbornly dividing their time between giving him a hard time and trying to shoot the patrol aircraft down.

One of the drones, as if 'noticing' Naomi and Count's approach, broke off and headed for them. It's mistake was taking them head on, in the perfect position for an attack. Naomi waited until she had a lock, going nose to nose with the drone. She held her fire, then banked to the right and fired a missile once she had a lock, getting free of the now destroyed drone and not putting herself in the way of the fiery debris. Count banked left to avoid it as well, and Naomi performed a full roll to level back out. Her next target was the last one, and she was pretty sure that Footpad was sick and tired of it harassing him and Specter 2.

It was an easy target, and Count didn't try and fight her for it. She got within machine gun range and finished it off with her gun instead of using a missile on it. It was practically shredded, and followed its companions down to the ocean. She heard Tabloid chuckle in her ear, and figured Cyclops and the rest of Strider must have followed her and Count in case they were outnumbered. "Damn, Trigger, you're really on a roll today. Nice kill! They won't give the patrol aircraft anymore trouble."

Footpad let out a relieved breath. "Thanks, Trigger! It's nice to know you haven't lost your touch. Or your drive, it would seem."

"You actually thought that she would? Ha." Count grumbled, letting out a very dry, extremely fake laugh. He almost sounded...jealous. At the very least, he was somewhat upset by what Footpad had said, and Naomi had no idea why. "Makes me wonder just how well you actually know her."

Sensing an argument coming on, and wondering why Count seemed so annoyed, Naomi was grateful when David brought about a change of subject. "Hey! Do you have moment?" His voice was nervous, and raised above whatever was going on in the background. It sounded like shouting and various other loud noises. Where the hell was he?

"Yeah. What's up?" Naomi asked him, surveying her surroundings.

"It's chaos here. Two groups of demonstrators have clashed, and now people are running away," David replied. His answer explained all the noise going on in the background. She couldn't imagine what could possibly cause fights to break out when most of what was going on in Oured was supposed to be peaceful and celebratory. Then again, she knew for a fact that people could start fights over just about anything and everything. May be stupid, but even she'd gotten into her fair share of dumb arguments. Why was David out in all of that though? He continued, not giving any indication that he was too worried about leaving. "I see a lot of signs held up. There are even banners flying in the air! They're advertising drones! That's...interesting."

"Whoah, what? You're in Oured?!" Count demanded, showing more concern for David's safety than David himself was.

David huffed and apparently decided he was going to be snarky about the whole thing. "Well _yeah_, I live here." He paused, then gave a far nicer explanation. "I haven't solved the terminal guidance mystery either, so I'm _trying_ to work on that!"

Count groaned in exasperation. "I meant, why aren't you running, you dumbass!" he snapped.

"Hey, you guys aren't running, are you?" David asked, and it sounded as though he was smiling. Well, he'd made his point at least.

"Damn right, we're not!" Lanza said with a laugh.

There was a pause, and then David's voice came again, confused and distracted. "Running...wait, running?" Another pause, and then David eagerly said, "Yes, those drones aren't running away!"

"What do you mean?" Fencer asked him, as equally as exasperated as Count had sounded earlier, if slightly more patient with him.

David didn't answer the question, instead saying, "I'll call you back! Alex, I need you to check something for me!" With that, the transmission from David ceased, leaving them all with more questions than answers. And who was Alex? Naomi shook her head, glancing at her radar. That couldn't have been the only other wave of hostiles. She had to stay focused.

Sure enough, just as she had guessed, another wave of enemy aircraft showed up on their radars, and Long Caster was quick to inform them of the development. "All aircraft, be advised! We've detected additional hostiles on our radar," he said quickly. "There are fighters mixed in with the UAVs, and they're in larger groups than the first one was. Protect Specter from the enemy at all costs. We only need you to hold out a little bit longer."

"Alright," Naomi said, nodding to herself and preparing herself for another attack. "Everyone, spread out and work together. Try and attack from every direction you can, give them very few places to run to. And if you need help then you need to say so."

"Trigger, the other guys are standing their ground just fine, but in the end it comes down to _you_," Wiseman said to her, and there was both encouragement and authority in his voice as he spoke. "Do us proud. We're all rooting for you over here. Hmm...what?" He paused for a moment, distracted by someone, and then chuckled. "And Avril wanted me to remind you all not to trash your planes. She says that if you make more work for her and Bandog, she'll kill you herself."

"Tell her to stop worrying so much," Tabloid said with a laugh, and Naomi couldn't tell what he sounded happier about. The fact that he was flying again, or that Avril was concerned for their wellbeing. Tabloid knew as well as anyone that, although she seemingly cared more about their planes, it was just her way of saying that she wanted them to be careful. She was warming up since their time in Spare, slowly but surely, and Naomi knew that she was worried for them. Especially on an operation like this. Tabloid knew what to say to put her mind at ease, though, as usual. "We'll be coming back safe and sound, planes and all. Besides, we'd have hell to pay if we didn't."

"Specter Squadron, this is Mage 3," Grimm's voice came over the radio, the first time he'd said more than a few words. He definitely wasn't the kind of guy to try and grab the spotlight, something Naomi had figured out when she first met him, so it was a bit surprising that he was taking the initiative and checking up on the patrol aircraft. Naomi felt a bit embarrassed that she hadn't thought to do it yet, but none of her mentors said anything to scold her for not speaking up. They all stayed quiet as Grimm went on. "I know those flies slowed you down a bit, so how's your progress been so far?"

"This is Specter 4," replied one of the patrol aircraft, sounding a bit tired and shaken after a close call, but otherwise fine. "A missile grazed us earlier, but we're all still flying. 70% of sonobuoys are dropped."

"Alright, just a little longer!" Count said, half-cheering but thankfully not getting too confident. Naomi knew that she and Count had that in common, but she was grateful that Count was making an effort to tone it down. He was always ready to rally everyone, though, and eagerly added in an almost growl, "C'mon, guys! Just like before, let's go get 'em!"

Everyone did exactly that, refusing to let Specter take any casualties. Even if only one of the patrol aircraft was necessary there were still people on those planes, and if Naomi could help it then not one of them was going to go down. She took the lead once more, firing the first shot at the new group of enemies. A couple of fighters were among them, and Naomi wanted to take care of them first. It was entirely possible that they were controlling the drones, if not that then they were providing necessary cover. So she forced one of the fighters away from his formation, matching his movements and countering his attempts to reach Specter.

Unfortunately, they were outnumbered by the drones, and several slipped through and jumped on Specter's lead aircraft. Frantically, the officer on board called out for support. "This is Specter 1! We've been hit by a missile! We can still fly, but we've got more incoming!" The panic in his voice seemed to set everyone on edge, and Naomi quickly tried to figure out who was closest and able to provide support, all while dodging an enemy missile from a drone that decided to pay her a visit and help out the Rafale she was chasing.

Right as she figured out who was closest to provide support, and right when she was about to call out to them to tell them to get their asses over their, Clown took charge and did it for her. "Mage Squadron, follow after me. Let's go give our friends a hand before those damn flies shoot 'em down!" He waited a second, then added, "Don't forget, we're their escorts. Shield 'em with your bodies if you have to, so long as they make it out!"

Kathryn and Grimm followed him without any argument, the three of them fanning out and taking the drones on one-on-one. Naomi caught glimpses of their fighting. They were quick to react, with aggressive movements, but there was something elegant and precise about their flying as well. She could see a bit of Clown's style in their flying, especially Kathryn's. They were strategists, waiting for the right moment before they made their move. It didn't surprise Naomi that Clown had picked up their own flying style, having sat in the back seat with Kathryn throughout the last war. He was a great pilot, and he learned this from equally as great pilots. But as Naomi glanced at them, and watched them fight and listened, it was clear that their break from flying and the fact they were getting on in age was making it difficult. They were good, but they started losing it halfway through the fight, barely making the kill. Clown was actually showing them up, in spite of being several years older.

Boggard and Footpad were taking on another group of drones alongside Fencer and Tabloid, the four men flying almost as though they'd been fighting side by side their whole lives, making few mistakes and having very little close calls with one another. Skald and Lanza were picking off the drones on the edges, while Knocker and Faun covered them. Jaeger and Húxiān had gone to back up Mage, keeping any more drones from reaching them and causing any trouble. Thanks to Count, Naomi was free of the drone on her tail and had downed the Rafale, moving on to her next target. Knocker broke off from Faun and joined in her pursuit of the remaining fighters, downing one of them while Naomi took out the two wingmen.

From there, everything was easy. They had the drones handled. Naomi shot down two of them when they'd tried to target Húxiān and Jaeger, then Count helped Tabloid, Fencer, and Boggard finish off the remaining five. Naomi had stopped keeping score, but they could look into that later. They hadn't even decided what the winner would get, but there would be plenty of time for that. Besides, Naomi was tired, nervous, and ready for this operation to be over. They could worry about the competition later. Making sure that there were definitely no more enemies in the area, Naomi proceeded to check up on Specter. "Specter Squadron, you had us scared for a minute there. Status on the barrier?"

"This is Specter 1. Sorry to scare you, ma'am. Some of our crew was injured, but we all made it out okay," the radio officer replied. He seemed briefly concerned with other things, which was understandable, but he excitedly followed up with an answer to Naomi. "All sonobuoys dropped! Barrier is completed!" Likely after preparing to send the data to Long Caster, the officer suddenly sounded much more upbeat and younger than he likely was as he added, "All of us making it out alive certainly wasn't in our calculations...we owe you! Big time!"

Naomi felt embarrassed by the comment, wanting to protest and argue that she was only doing her job, but Count chuckled and it caught her even more off guard than Specter Squadron's praise. "You can't really calculate outcomes when you've got an X factor with you!"

"I can't take all the credit," Naomi said to Specter, and what she said was the truth. She'd have never made it on her own. Not without Count and the others. "These guys pulled their weight just as much. Besides, let's not celebrate too early. Once we get that sub and make sure Oured is safe, _then_ you can thank us." Although she didn't want to seem too strict, they really shouldn't jinx it. Once everyone was safe and that sub was sent back to the bottom of the ocean where it belonged, then they earned the right to celebrate. She knew Wiseman would have said the same thing.

As they waited for Specter Squadron to finish with their analysis, Naomi took a breather and looked around the skies. It wasn't over yet, but she could still enjoy how peaceful things looked, but the general atmosphere was still tense for her and the others. The sun was slowly setting, but everything was still bright and practically glowing. There were small areas where rain was falling from dark clouds, and areas where the clouds blocked the sunlight and formed an eery blanket of dark gray which helped add to the tension. At least from Naomi's perspective. It was a great relief when Specter Squadron radioed them again and she directed her thoughts back to the mission.

"Signal analysis complete!" came the familiar voice of Specter 1's radio officer. Boy, was she happy to hear him. "Data linking the _Alicorn's_ navigable zones!"

Long Caster got right to work, clearly making sure that things continued to move like clockwork. "Roger that! Trigger, I'm displaying the search area on your radar map." Naomi heard a sharp chime and looked down at her radar, noting the updated chart. Another new addition was a large ring to the north, right smack in the middle of the ocean, just as expected. Long Caster quickly explained. "The _Alicorn_ is somewhere inside that ring. Activating the MAD!" Naomi was barely being given enough time to process everything as a sudden line appeared on her HUD, being flat and a solid red color until Naomi reduced her speed and turned toward the ring on her map. Long Caster went on. "Do you see the waveform indicator above your HUD?"

"Yeah, I see it," Naomi replied, slowing her speed slightly. It changed from red to green, but the waveform seemed staticky and weak, pathetically beeping every now and then. Naomi was confused and intrigued all at once. "How the hell do I work this thing, exactly?"

"Well for one, the MAD won't function at high speeds, so you'll have to fly slower than eight-hundred kilometers per hour. And I'm afraid that it also won't work as effectively at higher altitudes, so you'll need to step out of your comfort zone a bit, Trigger. I'd say keep your altitude below 600, but it might take more than that. Sorry." Long Caster did sound truly apologetic, and Naomi reluctantly lowered her altitude, flying higher than Strider had been forced to do at Anchorhead but still low enough that the MAD would work. Long Caster continued with his explanation as Naomi began to close in on the circle on her map. "Fly over the search area and look for a location that induces a change in the waveform."

"So, looks like we're treasure hunting for real, huh?" Tabloid asked with a deep breath, recalling Count's comment from earlier. "This oughta be fun..."

"I hate missions like this. I'm just glad I'm not the one that has to use that thing," Kathryn said, sounding suddenly irritable. "Any sort of searching from a plane is a pain in the ass. Especially when you've got so much at stake. Believe me, I know firsthand."

"We all just need to grit our teeth and get through it," Jaeger patiently said to Kathryn and Tabloid, still sounding fairly stern, though. "Trigger's doing the difficult part on her own. We should just be grateful that we don't have the extra responsibility."

"I take it our job is just to make sure that our girl stays in the air?" Count asked Long Caster, and Naomi noticed that he was trailing further behind her than he usually did but was still pretty close. The others were just now starting to catch up to them.

Long Caster replied calmly, trying not to get everyone too on edge, especially with the comments that the others were making. "That's right, Count. All aircraft except for Trigger, you're on contingent combat air patrol. If any more aircraft show up, make sure that Trigger stays safe."

Naomi knew that none of them needed to be told more than once, and all of them spread out around her, performing a protective perimeter just like they'd done for Specter earlier. She felt a little jealous that they got to fly so high, meanwhile she was stuck, feeling sick to her stomach and nervous about flying so low. One wrong move and she'd be dead. She hated it, but she wasn't going to complain. One way or another, it would have to be done, and she might as well make it as easy on herself as she could. Naomi reached the edge of the circle, and the MAD's signal started to grow stronger. She made sure her speed was right and entered the ring. "I wish there was an easier way to do this..." she mused aloud.

"Yeah. Would've been so much easier if it could sing and let us know where it was," Count replied, only half-joking.

"They were in silent running." It was Grimm that answered him, sounding as thoughtful as Jaeger usually did. "I doubt that they even breathed, let along sang. Otherwise, we probably _would_ have found them already."

"The submarine may be huge, but it's still gonna be like looking for a needle in a haystack," Lanza put in, easily sounding the most eager for a fight out of the entire group.

"We're just going to have trust that that MAD picks up whatever trail the damn thing left behind," Knocker said with a sigh as he and Golem flew alongside Cyclops Squadron. Mage and Strider were flying closest to Naomi, while Golem and Cyclops were a bit higher up.

Naomi was trying to pay attention to both the conversation going on among her allies and still focus on the MAD. She wanted to narrow down the search area, but they didn't have a lot of time, so she was pushing the limit with her speed a bit more than she would have liked, trying to pick it up on the edge and move inward. The waveform wasn't picking much up, only occasionally chirping at her and sliding up ever so slightly. Meanwhile, her wingmen continued their conversation. It was Skald that spoke next, possibly doubtful of Knocker's comment. "Do titanium hulls even leave magnetic footprints?"

Faun answered him. "Well, with it's size it seems like it would be impossible not to. The thing's massive, and with all that metal, it'd be amazing if you _didn't_ pick something up."

"He's right, Skald," Jaeger said next. "All the deperming measures in the world won't change that."

From there, the conversation stopped, and Naomi put her full focus on her search. It was a slow process, but at last the MAD's waveform began to move enough that it was worth pursuing. She had to use subtle movements, meaning yawing to the left and right, in order to get where she wanted to go. The waveform started to get less and less consistent, chiming more often and rising. Naomi, unsure what else to do, turned in the direction of the peak and the signal seemed to grow stronger. "This is Strider 1! I'm picking something up. Long Caster?"

There was a pause before their AWACS finally answered. "Okay, Trigger, you're right. Your MAD's getting something. I'm guessing the waveform on your HUD peaked. Just keep turning and flying in the direction where the waveform peaks."

"Alright..." Naomi continued to do what she'd been doing, adjusting her position and tweaking her speed ever so slightly. The waveform began to beep and peak more and more frequently, and Naomi yawed to the right so that it peaked in the center. She'd be approaching it head on. The MAD was getting a much stronger reaction than before, and it was getting louder and more annoying too. "Long Caster, I'm getting a stronger reaction. You getting anything on your end?"

"Not yet, but if your MAD's getting a stronger reaction then it must mean that the _Alicorn_ is near," Long Caster replied.

"You've set the hook!" Clown called out with a laugh. "Now you just gotta reel it in!"

"C'mon, sharky, where are ya?" Húxiān muttered, and Naomi could hear the nervousness and anticipation in her friend's voice.

The sound continued in Naomi's ear until she finally began to close in. The tempo of the waveform changed, becoming much faster and much louder until finally a new sound drowned it out. A sharp, fast beeping of her radar trying to get a lock on something but failing miserably. Why? Because the target was underwater. Naomi tried not to get too excited, but this was it. It had to be it. "Long Caster, I've got something! I think we've found our whale!"

"Yes! We're picking up a magnetic signature!" Long Caster said quickly and obviously relieved. But as luck would have it, they both spoke too soon. Right as he finished announcing that, Naomi's HUD suddenly glitched and the waveform indicator turned to nothing more than static, the once annoying beeping being replaced with white noise. Naomi actually missed the annoying sound, now. She would have taken that over what she was forced to listen to now. Long Caster's relief turned to frustration. "Dammit! Signature lost! I'm seeing strong noise in the MAD's signal!"

Naomi wanted to make a sharp comment. He wasn't the only one. At least he didn't have to listen to it. She didn't get the opportunity to say anything she might regret later, which was probably was for the best, since David had come back and had been listening in to everything the last few minutes. "Shit!" he spat, perhaps the angriest out of the group. Actually, Naomi could have given him a run for his money. "They predicted we'd use an MAD! Looks like the captain was smarter than we gave him credit for..."

"Just great. Seems like this is our contingency..." Count said with a huff of annoyance, although Naomi could hear that he was tired from the fight earlier. She was too, but they had to get past this somehow.

"Does anyone see the source of the noise on the ocean surface? It's likely similar to a buoy!" David informed them, and everyone began to look for what he described, even though they had little details and the odds of them seeing it were unlikely.

Unfortunately, the sun beating off the surface of the water and making it a mix of way too light or way too dark made it almost impossible to see anything on the surface. The visor on Naomi's helmet made it easier to fight the sunlight, but it didn't do much to help with the darkness. She squinted and looked around, leaning forward and against her harness to try and increase her field of vision, but she couldn't see anything at her altitude. And she wasn't about to lower it. Judging by the hushed and confused radio chatter, her wingmen and other allies weren't having any better luck. Not surprising. It was pretty pointless to look in the first place.

Naomi fell back into her usual sitting position with a deep breath, regretting trying to pull herself forward in the cramped space to begin with. "This is Strider 1. None of us have a visual on anything, and our radars aren't picking up anything out of the norm. And we can't fly any lower to look for anything." She took another quick look at her surroundings, but there wasn't a point. She'd never be able to spot anything, and she felt a sense of uselessness for a moment. "What about you, Long Caster?"

"Well, I don't have a window, so I don't know about buoys, but I'm detecting strong radio sources," Long Caster said, and Naomi guessed they'd just finished up their own search. Obviously they had better luck up there than Naomi and everyone else had.

"Correct!" David quickly responded, and Naomi noticed that the noise on his end from earlier hadn't died down much. He didn't seem to bothered by it, though. "That's it! That's what they're using, it's gotta be!"

"Sending the locations of the jamming devices." Not long after Long Caster informed them of this, their HUDs and radars were updated, and Naomi looked over the locations he'd marked. There weren't many, but they were spread out over a fairly wide area. Although the order wasn't necessary, Long Caster gave one nonetheless. "Destroy them, _now_."

Without any hesitation, they all spread out to make the task go by faster. It wasn't like the buoys were a major threat. It's not like they could shoot at them like drones could (at least Naomi hoped they couldn't), but they wanted this to go by as fast as possible. Lanza was the first to get to work, perhaps the only one happy about having more work to do. "Ha! Like these cheap toys are enough to help them escape our net. This like target practice!" he said with a quiet laugh, obviously not having lost his excitement from the start of the mission. At least he was eager. With that kind of motivation and enthusiasm, they'd win in no time.

Naomi and Lanza were the first to destroy the buoys they targeted, followed almost immediately by Count. As soon as their missiles made contact, there was a muffled and yet still obvious booming sound and a flash from under the surface of the water. It caught Naomi off guard and she instinctively pulled her plane up and away from the water, something she'd been dying to do for a while now, but she knew she'd probably just have to go back down and destroy the others. While she and Lanza were too confused to say anything, Count was startled enough to speak up. "What the...?! A huge explosion just went off underwater!"

"An explosion?!" David was caught off guard, bordering disbelief, but he quickly snapped out of it. "That doesn't sound good. Patrol aircraft, tell us what's happening underwater!"

"Underwater listening is impossible! We're only hearing explosion echoes!" Specter 4 replied quickly, obviously frustrated. There seemed to be a lot of that going around.

"There's a reason they did that with the buoys, so what is it?" Boggard demanded shortly, having taken out one of the buoys farthest away from the original search ring. Naomi and Count had turned to fly towards two that were pretty much side by side while Húxiān went for the one nearest to Boggard's location.

David sighed. "The _Alicorn_ will use the noise for cover and head out at full speed." He paused, and then groaned. "Dammit, I should have known they'd do something like this! Specter, I need you to determine the sub's location again, as soon as the noise dies down. As for everyone else, destroy the rest of them! Hurry!"

"We're not gonna let them get away! We can make it!" Naomi quickly replied, trying to reassure herself more than anyone else but secretly hoping it helped calm David down a bit. He seemed more anxious than anyone else was, or at least he was the only one to express how anxious she was. Naomi didn't really get that luxury, not that it did anything to change how she might react. The seconds it took to reach the target felt like hours, and finally Naomi made one last dive towards the surface, lining up the sight on her HUD and firing the machine gun. The buoy was wiped out in just a few hits, another explosion underwater confirming this. Two more followed, with a brief, fairly dull flash of light and muffled boom, confirming that Count and Húxiān had destroyed their buoys as well.

"Nice work. All jamming buoys have been eliminated," Long Caster said.

"Specter, how'd it go?" Fencer asked, uncharacteristically nervous. "You pick anything up yet?"

"No. Wait for the sonobuoys to respond." Specter 2's reply was simple, perhaps a little annoyed by Fencer's impatience.

All of them were impatient at this point, as proved when Húxiān spat, "Argh, Goddammit! They're gonna get away!"

Naomi wanted to agree or argue or something. Just anything to break the tense silence that fell over them all. They had nothing to do but fly around and wait and feel useless. And helpless. There was a lot at stake, but they had no way of speeding up the process. So for about a minute, every single second of which was spent in agony, they did the only thing they could do. It was all spent in silence, but after a bit, they'd all become tired of the quiet. Kathryn was the first one to speak up, her tone harsher than what Naomi was used to from her, "Hey, you guys okay over there?!"

There was a pause before Specter 1 replied. "Analysis done! Data linking!"

"Dammit! It's location has moved!" Long Caster raised his voice, more scared than angry, and several of the pilots all exclaimed in surprise and frustration. There wasn't much time to waste, and Long Caster knew this, quickly updating their radars. "Trigger, I'm sending you the search area. Now go! Don't let it get away!"

"Shit, the _Alicorn's_ almost reached that trench we heard about earlier!" Grimm cried out. "We're almost out of time! Hurry!"

"Relax, Trigger's already on the hunt!" Count said, although even he sounded worried.

That was all Naomi needed to push herself forward. She made a sharp turn, bringing her nose around and throttling up, she was closing in on the location as fast as she could. At this rate, they might not make it in time, but Naomi wasn't about to give it up. Even if they couldn't make it, they had to try. And she had to make it. As she reached the edge of the ring, her heart feeling like it was going to burst out of her chest, a bunch of blips appeared on radar and a small swarm of SLUAVs burst out of the water. "What the hell?!" Naomi heard a missile lock warning and immediately got a lock of her own, firing one missile and switching targets to fire again as she banked to evade the missiles that had been fired at her. Luckily for her, she managed to take out the two they'd fired at, but she couldn't dogfight. "I could use a hand over here! They've launched UAVs!"

Húxiān sputtered for a moment before she found the words she was looking for. "They can launch them from underwater?! How...how the hell?!"

"It doesn't matter!" Lanza replied quickly, and Naomi checked to see where he and the others were, her missile warnings making it hard to think straight. They were almost there. "If you can splash even one, it'll be that much easier for Trigger!"

Naomi had no choice but to awkwardly dodge a couple of stray missiles, as well as keeping a steady altitude to avoid slamming into the nearby rocks jutting out of the water. She couldn't focus on the task if she ran the risk of getting shot out of the sky. Just a little longer. She grunted as she rolled clear of a missile, spotting it continue to fly through the air, hitting the surface of the water harmlessly. As the UAV that fired it was getting ready to take another shot at her, Count swooped in and fired a missile of his own, wiping out the drone without a moment's hesitation. "We've got your back, Trig! Just focus on finding the submarine, and leave these pests to us!"

"Strider, Cyclops, we don't have much time left," Wiseman said gravely. If he was starting to grow tired and worried then the others wouldn't be far behind.

"Don't you worry!" Count said through gritted teeth as he worked with the others to keep the UAVs off of Naomi. "Trigger will find it! I know she will! Everyone else, get in there and keep the drones away from her!"

Naomi lowered her altitude and speed, however hesitant she was. Her mouth was dry and her heart was still pounding, all the while she had to fight the instinct to pull up and turn and fight when that familiar tracking warning went off in her ears. Thankfully, her wingmen were all jumping on the drones every time they tried to threaten the mission. They were tired, though, and their fighting was much sloppier than it could have been. Naomi didn't blame them. She was in the same situation. Húxiān seemed to be struggling more than usual, and let out a weak shout of frustration, musing aloud, "Trigger's given me so much cover and I still...Shit, I'm just pathetic!"

"Húxiān, we all need you to hang in there!" Wiseman said firmly, a little harsher than usual but enough to get everyone's attention. Naomi had a sinking feeling that they were going to be cutting it a little too close, as confirmed when Wiseman quickly added to her in a panicked shout, "Double-time it, Trigger!"

It wasn't the first time she'd heard that. She was going as fast as she could for the MAD to still function, and she was following that stupid waveform right down the middle. So where was that damn sub? She'd started sweating somewhere early along in this search, feeling like she was burning. Suffocating from fear was another thing that it felt like. The chiming and the waveform was starting to speed up, just like it had done the first time. "Where are you? C'mon, you stupid sub. Come and fight..." she whispered to herself. It felt like the whole world stopped moving until finally she heard that familiar sound from earlier, and everything came rushing back to life. She needed to be sure. "Long Caster?"

"You've reeled it in! Positive hit on the MAD!" Long Caster confirmed, sounding as though he was smiling. "Strider 1 found the submarine _Alicorn_!"

"Yes!" Naomi couldn't help but let out an ecstatic cheer, which the others all joined in on, even the crew on board the patrol aircraft.

"I guess all that flying around finally paid off, right Trigger?" Footpad asked with a chuckle.

"We ain't done yet. Time for some real fun," Count said next. "Let's give it the finishing blow!"

It was now that the Osean fleet they'd brought along stepped in, having been silently moving along while the fighters did all the work. Naomi may have wished they'd done some more help, but in all fairness they hadn't really been targeted. Besides, it was this part which would determine how the rest of the day went. "Target coordinates acquired," one of the sailors announced to everyone, and Naomi could just imagine how chaotic things were on those ships now. "Coordinates reentered."

It was the captain of the _Canary_ that spoke next, his voice booming. "Commence preparations to fire the VL-ASROC!"

"VL-ASROC ready for launch!" a female crewman announced, the fleet having finally moved into position.

"The line of fire is clear," another man confirmed.

"Ready!" a fourth and final officer called out. Naomi figured that it must have been soldiers from each of the four ships, making sure that the attack would be coordinated.

"Fire all missiles!" came the order from the _Canary's_ captain.

"FIRE!" The officers had all shouted the command at once, and almost exactly at the same time the four ships fired the missiles into the air.

"Missile away!" Long Caster called out.

"All anti-submarine missiles have been launched!" announced the ship captain.

The four missiles shot up into the air with a roar, leaving a white streak behind them. They went directly up and then arced, falling down towards the surface of the water. Naomi had been circling the location, watching as the missiles went up into the air. She made her turn a bit wider than she usually did, happy to finally be allowed to climb higher. The missiles' descent was slowed after their arc, each one having deployed a parachute. This gave Naomi time to slip underneath them, bringing the nose of her Eagle up and into a straight climb. She took a deep breath, looking over her shoulder as much as she could at the missiles before leveling her fighter out and going to rejoin her wingman.

From where they were, they watched the missiles hit the water one after the other, sending a spray of water into the air. The splash had to have been several feet high, but there was no way of knowing for sure. It was obviously big, though. As they hit the water, hopefully falling down to their target and letting the plan go smoothly, the _Canary's_ captain spoke once more, hesitant and obviously nervous. Like he didn't really want an answer to his question. "Report the results...did we get 'em or not?"

The water was still for a moment, or as still as it was going to be, and then something broke the surface and Naomi felt a growing pit in her stomach. The _Alicorn_ burst from the water, breaching like a vicious, metal whale. Its front end went a good ways into the air before it came crashing back down, almost majestically, allowing the rest of the submarine to fully surface. As it hit the water, staying afloat above it, it made a cracking sound like thunder and the water around it was sent straight up. It created a massive, temporary white wall that covered the _Alicorn_ before falling back down to the ocean, most of their wall of water fading into sea spray and falling victim to the light wind that hit it. The _Alicorn_ readied the railguns it kept concealed at its side, and turned towards the fleet.

"Holy shit...no..." Kathryn breathed out through a shudder, and Naomi heard nothing but sheer terror in the older pilot's voice. The _Alicorn's_ intimidating display combined with the fact that one of the Razgriz was scared by it sent a chill down Naomi's spine and she immediately knew that this wasn't going to be as easy as everyone had hoped. Or planned for that matter.

"_Alicorn_ spotted; it's surfacing!" Húxiān said quickly, her own fear starting to show through for once.

Both of the other women's reactions flipped a switch in Naomi's mind. She had to keep it together. They had to focus on destroying this thing, and if she allowed herself to get scared then everyone else was going to suffer and she needed them all to come back alive. It didn't matter what had to happen in order to accomplish that. But as soon as they heard that the _Alicorn_ hadn't been hit, fear and anger seemed to take the forefront in everyone's mind. Lanza's voice was the first to rise clearly above the surprised shouting. "_Surfacing_?! We haven't sunk it?!"

"If we had sunk it, it wouldn't be surfacing, now would it?!" Skald, usually the calmer of the two of them, snapped at Lanza. It was unusual that the two of them ever raised their voices at each other. They were like brothers, and Naomi had figured this out since the first day she met them. The stress must have been getting to him. Just what they needed.

"They're attacking our fleet!" Tabloid said, his voice laced with concern for their allies. "Shit, this isn't good!"

"Son of a...!" Count didn't finish the sentence, and Naomi couldn't figure out why. But almost with a growl he said instead, "We didn't hit 'em!"

"Dammit!" That was Knocker.

Naomi wasn't about to sit around any longer, so as soon as new blips appeared on her radar and Long Caster indicated the targets all across the submarine, she made a dive for it and picked up speed once more. "You're wrong, Count!" she called out to her wingman, readying herself for the fight. She knew exactly what to target first, and switched through the targets until she was tracking the railgun. That was the first order of business. "We may not have hit them, but we _have_ backed them into a corner! And it's time to show them just what Osea is capable of!"

She was still trying to get into range, unfortunately unable to stop them from firing at the fleet. But she could stop them from getting the remaining ships. As she was on her way, the others started to pick up speed and follow, spurred on by Wiseman. "She's right. They're vulnerable now that they've surfaced!" Wiseman said to them, backing her up even if he wasn't physically there. "All aircraft, follow up on Trigger! Destroy the _Alicorn_!"

Everyone sounded off, and Naomi felt a surge of determination. She finally got a lock on the railgun, firing as soon as she could and pulling up as the _Alicorn_ sent out a volley of anti-air fire. Machine gun fire and missiles...it looked like just about everything that they had to throw at them. Missile warnings blared in her ear while the crew of the crew ships below began to shout over one another, announcing the loss of the _Seagull_ and the _Canary_. They were starting to abandon ship, but in this mess it would be risky. The four ships had spread themselves out, allowing the _Alicorn_ to pass between them. What other choice did they have?

Wanting to finish this battle as soon as possible and with as few casualties on their end as they could manage, she checked the damage that had been done to the submarine as soon as the others finished their attack, preparing to circle around for another run. Unfortunately, their hits hadn't done much. The CIWS the _Alicorn_ had was protecting it, and only one was making it through at a time from each plane. This wasn't going to be easy, especially with the sub's constant attacks on them. One of the railguns was damaged, but a bright blue light from the two of them told Naomi that it was powering up, and a red line appeared on her radar.

"You're being locked onto by the railguns!" Long Caster warned her. "Increase your speed and run, Trigger! The same goes for everyone else!"

"Shit!" Naomi quickly circled around, trying to get one final hit on the right railgun before it fired. She switched weapons to the pulse lasers, carefully lining the circle up with the target, ignoring the alarms in her ear. She had to try it. The railguns turned and their angle was adjusted so they were tilted back slightly, in perfect firing position for any aircraft. _Great, just what we needed._ Naomi ignored her thoughts as the circle on her HUD turned red, and she began firing, hoping some of them were hitting. A muffled whirring sound was starting to get louder as she got closer to the railgun, and she could only assume that it was the sound of the guns powering up. She quickly switched weapons and fired a missile before pulling up, not wanting to get any lower to the water or any closer to the gun.

"If one of those railguns hits us, we'll be torn into a million pieces!" Count said as he followed Naomi into a climb, having managed to take out one of the SAMs they had mounted on the very end of the flight deck. The others were finishing their run as well, cutting it rather close. Unfortunately, all of their attacks were being weakened and right now it seemed the best course of action was to decide what to hit first. The damn thing was huge.

"They're aimed at the sky, singling out the aircraft!" Naomi informed everyone. "Don't flutter about, or you're gonna get hit!"

"Throttle up!" Count growled.

Their fighters were forced to make hard turns in order to get out of the railguns' line of fire, and they all barely managed it. Right as Boggard and Footpad were clear from the line shown on their radars, the _Alicorn_ fired. There was a ripple in the air as the shell took flight, shaking their fighters as it did. The shot missed all of them, and when Naomi tried to get a lock on the railguns, the _Alicorn_ was quick to retract them again. Frustrated, Naomi targeted the next thing her radar switched to, wanting to land another shot in before the _Alicorn_ tried anything else. It was one of the ballast tanks, and one of the higher priority targets that Long Caster had designated.

Instead of using regular missiles to destroy them, knowing full well that the CIWS was still in mostly working order, Naomi started to make more use of her pulse lasers. She fired at the ballast tanks, which offered a very small, short-lived victory when it finally was destroyed. That and the hits that the others had made, wiping out two more SAMs and working to damage anything else they could hit, was putting the submarine in a world of hurt. Their attack abruptly came to an end as the _Alicorn_ began to retreat underwater, sending up several UAVs to distract them as it did. "Dammit, the _Alicorn_ is diving!" Jaeger called out as a missile he'd fired just before the sub began to dive ended up hitting the water instead of its target.

David's voice came over the radio. He sounded much calmer compared to before. "Don't worry. Its ballast tanks should be damaged, so it'll have to surface again soon!" he told them quickly, and there wasn't any doubt in his voice. Naomi trusted him. "In the meantime, it'd be a good idea to shoot down the drones that have been launched, and work on your plan to attack the next time the sub surfaces. When that will be, though..._I_ can't predict that for you."

"Specter Squadron will continue our surveillance," Specter 1 said, and Naomi felt bad that she'd almost forgotten about them. They were smart to stay high up and out of range, but still low enough to do their work. "We might be able to locate the sub if it's about to surface. It won't give you much, but it will give you a bit of time." He let out a tired chuckle. "Besides, I'd say that it's the very least of what we could do after you saved our tails back there."

"Don't worry, buddy. That's more than enough," Long Caster replied. "All aircraft, position yourselves to hit the _Alicorn_ as it surfaces!"

"Righto!" Count said.

While they waited, they did what David had suggested and targeted the drones. There weren't many of them, and it didn't take long to wipe them out. Naomi and Count got two of them, then Clown and Grimm got a couple on their own, and Skald, Tabloid, and Footpad finished them off. That left them with nothing to do but anxiously fly around and obsessively check their radars to see if the _Alicorn_ was showing up on it yet. At last, Specter Squadron pulled through for them once again. "Sub spotted! Sending underwater coordinates!"

Not wasting another second, they all flew towards the blip on their radar, reaching it right as the Alicorn settled itself on the surface and continued on its way. "The Alicorn has surfaced! Commence assault!"

"Clown, Grimm, you guys remember um...you remember the Scinfaxi and the Hrimfaxi, right? Y'all remember taking them on?" Kathryn asked the two of them, and both men responded quickly that they did. "Well, if we did it there, then we can do it here. I say that we team up and target the CIWS to make the attacks easier. They're our biggest problem right now, and if we take those out then it'll be easier on Naomi- I mean, easier on Strider 1 and the others." Naomi was amazed that Clown was just letting Kathryn speak up like that, practically giving the orders herself, but he didn't seem to mind. It did make sense, considering she used to be the one calling the shots.

"Well, I like the sound of that plan, Blaze," Clown said in reply. "Good thinkin', Kid. Hopefully it won't be too hard, right?" He paused, then the three F-16s that Mage Squadron was flying broke off to do just what they said they would. "C'mon, guys, it's time to do our part. Those things are pretty damn tough, so I'll go in and hit 'em to start. Then Blaze, you and Grimm come in and give them the finishing blow. May not be as effective as it could be, but it'll save us some ammunition. Trust me, we might need it later."

Naomi was waiting for the railguns to make an appearance again, so she could get rid of those before they continued to threaten the mission. They got rid of those, then all they'd have to do was destroy the rest of the ballast tanks and there hopefully would be less anti-air resistance. The red line appeared on her radar, and it wasn't hard to spot the bright blue glow from either side of the Alicorn. Showtime. She lowered her altitude just a little to make a clear approach and switched back to her pulse lasers. Once her shot was lined up, all that was left to do was fire. And that was precisely what she did, hitting the railgun one shot after the other until the glow disappeared from that side and a small explosion took its place.

"This is Strider 1!" she called out, managing to smile. That was one less problem they had to worry about. "I can confirm the destruction of one of the railguns. One down, one to go!"

"Yes!" Skald cheered. "That's one horn snapped off!"

"I feel like now you're just showing off, Trigger," Faun said with an out of breath laugh.

"You'll have to celebrate it later. There's still one left, and I think you pissed them off," Long Caster said to them, and unfortunately he was right. "You're being targeted by the remaining railgun, Trigger. Shake 'em off!"

She got herself out of range just in time, the others doing the same. Mage Squadron and Golem Squadron had teamed up and done a number on the _Alicorn's_ defense, while the LRSSG had taken out the remaining SAMs and another ballast tank. That left two more. The _Alicorn_ would be a sitting duck if it lost the remaining ballast tanks, and its crew obviously knew this, securing their railgun and throwing everything else that they could at their enemy. Naomi's missile alerts started going crazy as it began to launch as many missiles as it could in any direction, sending up a swarm of UAVs along with it and forcing Naomi and the others to break off their attack and dodge the incoming missiles.

Through the chaos, Naomi saw movement on the deck of the ship, and two Rafales took to the skies to join the fight. From the looks of things, there were two more waiting to take off and follow their wingmen. Long Caster, shocked and confused, announced the new enemies. "The _Alicorn_ has launched aircraft!" he practically yelled. "They're fighters, not UAVs!"

As the other two followed, they began to circle around and evaluate in a far more calculated and experienced manner than their unmanned companions. "That's some real skill there!" Jaeger said through gritted teeth, rolling clear of one of the last of the Alicorn's missiles. Although he sounded in pain and furious, something unusual for him, there was a hint that he was impressed by the enemy pilots. Naomi wasn't about to fault him for that. Even she was surprised by that. Jaeger added, "They've got serious guts to take off right now!"

"It ain't guts!" Húxiān snarled in reply. "They're just damn crazy!"

As Naomi was about to move in for another attack, a bunch of objects flew up from the ship in the same manner as the UAVs, but much smaller and there seemed to be a glow similar to that of the railguns coming from the center of them. "The Alicorn has launched flying objects. Their signature is different from the UAVs we've seen, but..." Long Caster said, but he trailed off. "Wait, what? This is...that doesn't make any sense! All aircraft, the drones' signature is similar to that of the Arsenal Bird. Can anyone confirm what the hell we're seeing up here?"

Right as he said this, Naomi had to break off from her attack as the drones activated blueish green shields, nearly diving straight through them. It was Skald that answered Long Caster, quick to assess the situation. "The small UAVs have activated EM barriers," he said.

"He's right, Long Caster. I have a visual on them," Naomi said, although a mere 'visual' on it was more or less an understatement. "They do look similar to the Arsenal Bird's defense systems, but they might be a lot weaker. Then again, I'm not about to fly through them to find out for sure."

"So, what do we do about it then?!" Tabloid asked quickly. "It's not like we have Stonehenge to bust through them, and they're keeping us from the sub!"

Naomi quickly looked over the area the drones were covering, and realized Tabloid was right. Their entire purpose was to give the sub enough time to dive again, but there were a couple of gaps in their defense. It wasn't much, but it was enough to fly through and get another hit before they went under again. "Not for long, Tabloid...everyone, you think you could keep the enemy aircraft busy for a minute? I'm gonna try something and I'd appreciate them not chasing me the whole way." Count was the first to react, downing the first drone that tried to jump on her, as if it could tell what her plan was. The others were quick to follow Count's lead, which gave her enough time. Or she hoped it would.

Bringing her plane around, she adjusted her altitude and flew at a bit of an angle, being forced to make slight adjustments thanks to the wind. But that was the only gap she could find that didn't involve crashing into the sub or slamming into the water. Picking up speed, she targeted one of the remaining ballast tanks and made sure she was tracking it as she made her approach. She flew between the brightly colored bubbles, focusing on the target and not hitting the drones. As she got between them, there was enough space between the drones and the sub to fly, and she could probably squeeze out underneath the shields on the other end.

Quickly, she fired a pair of missiles and rolled her plane back onto its belly, clenching her jaw and her fists as she flew under them and pulled her plane clear of the water once she was finally free. She let out a deep breath as the barrier drones began to drop their shields and began to fall down to the ocean, as if there was a time limit on how long they could keep up the shield. The Alicorn would be diving soon, but it wouldn't be a problem. Húxiān confirmed her success, calling out, "Trigger's attack hit! I can visually confirm hull damage! Looks like she blew that thing to pieces!"

"Let's follow her lead!" Count grunted as he made a hard maneuver to get a UAV off his tail so he could shoot it down.

"You're going to have to hold off on that, Count," Long Caster said. "The enemy submarine is diving. Handle their air support until it resurfaces."

They watched the submarine go under, and the rest of the drones fell down to the water with the others, just harmless pieces of scrap now. With the submarine running again, they didn't have anything else to do but fly around and engage, but it seemed that the enemy fighters that had taken off were trying to drag the fight on to give their allies more time. David's voice came over the radio again, and it sounded as though he hadn't been keeping tabs on the last few minutes. "Hello, this is North! Sorry about that, I had to confirm a theory of mine. What's the situation on your end?"

"We've got a moment or two," Grimm answered him. "Statrep?"

David wasted no time answering him. It sounded like the only thing keeping him from a full blown panic attack was the fact that he had a job to do. "It's the advertising drones! These guys are doing the terminal guidance, and we had no idea! They were right under my nose the whole time and I couldn't figure it out until now!"

"Hey, hey, chill!" Lanza said quickly, trying to calm David down enough to explain without yelling. "Take it slowly instead of just vomiting the words out!"

"Just listen! Like I've been saying, there are advertising drones flying above the demonstrators! They're perfect for a guidance systems, but _your_ opponent is that captain...I've gotta find a way to stop them from here, but how..." David paused to do his thinking like he'd done since day one of this submarine chase. "I'll be right back! Alex!" It sounded as though he had set his phone down and walked to another part of whatever room he was in. "How far away is the nearest air base?"

"Roughly 82 kilometers," came the monotonous voice of what Naomi guessed was some AI assistant he had. The voice sounded like it was from one of those 'home assistants' that was popular nowadays, but David's probably had a better purpose than giving recipes and playing music.

Once again with nothing left to do but wait, the sky seemed to become cramped as they all engaged the enemy aircraft. Golem and Mage had a fun time with the UAVs, toying with them for lack of anything better to do. It didn't bother Naomi, though. This wasn't a real pilot they were harassing, just a dumb UAV that was either acting on its emotionless programming or being controlled by a very frustrated crewman on the submarine. The four fighters spent their time giving Strider and Cyclops a hard time, surprisingly able to drag the fight on for longer than expected. They were trying to buy time for the submarine, and they seemed to be doing a good job of it.

With all the chaos and how crowded things were getting, the enemy squadron seemed to have the advantage. They had just taken off and weren't tired from a long day of fighting and chasing down a submarine, which shouldn't have been an excuse for poor fighting on Cyclops and Strider's parts but they were doing the best they could. Somewhere along the line, the enemy had the idea of separating Naomi from Count during the battle, and then tried to lure her away from the others. They were either trying to take out her wingmen or they were trying to take out her, but either way she wasn't about to allow it. They took her two on one, while the other two tried to piss off everyone else.

Naomi managed to shoot down one of them, but the other was stubbornly sticking to her tail and there wasn't much that she could do about it. She realized quickly that the other pilot had basically just given up and let her shoot him down, realizing how easy that was. And just like before, no one bailed out. A missile warning began blaring in her ear, and she was pretty sure that her only options were to try and fail to evade or waste whatever flares she had left. Had she used them already? At this point she couldn't even remember, and she didn't have the time to check. The goal right now was to just not die, and it wasn't looking like she was going to succeed in completing that goal.

"Strider 1! Missile incoming, evade it!" Húxiān called out to her, her voice shrill and anxious. The tone that Húxiān used acted like a splash of cold water, and Naomi mustered up enough energy to pull a very sharp, very fast turn and roll to get away from the incoming missile, and she braked and sent the Rafale flying over her. It felt like someone hit her in the chest with a boulder, but at least she was alive. She looked up as she tried to recover and chase after the enemy plane but Húxiān was already after him. With a couple of swift, short movements, Húxiān had gained the upper hand and fired a pair of missiles to finish the job. The missiles hit the engine and the Rafale didn't stand a chance. The pilot had time, but like the others he didn't eject. Húxiān circled back around and Naomi climbed up to join her, the former letting out a huff. "What are these psychos, a suicide squad? Guess it doesn't matter now. That twisted death wish of theirs just came true...you alright, Trigger?"

"Yeah, I'm fine...those guys really know how to tire their prey out, don't they?" Naomi replied, leaning to the side to look down at the water. She leaned back into the ejection seat and took a deep breath. "I would have been dead without you, Húxiān. Thanks for the help."

"Well, for one it's my job. And I still owe you from when you saved my ass back at Yinshi Valley. That's a pretty big debt I have to pay back," Húxiān replied casually. Naomi wasn't expecting the answer, nor did she want her wingman to feel as though she owed her a debt. Húxiān didn't owe her anything, and just flying with her was payment enough. She was a great pilot, and it was nice to have some company other than the guys. Trying to lighten the situation, Húxiān was soon to add, "Besides, you think I wanna have to listen to Count bossing everyone around for the rest of the mission? Ha! No thanks! I have to listen to his griping enough as it is."

Although the two of them laughed at the joke, Count on the other hand was not quite as amused. "Very funny, you two. I'm glad that you're both having fun at my expense, but I'll have you know that I could take charge just fine. And I don't gripe!" he said, but that only made them laugh more.

This time, Tabloid joined in with his own chuckle. "I dunno, Count. I feel like the girls make a good point. Otherwise you wouldn't have complained."

"Why don't you just shut up, Tabloid?" Count shot back, although he knew it was just some friendly teasing.

Tabloid just laughed off his sharp comment as he flew along with Lanza rejoin Skald and Fencer after the latter two helped Count and Jaeger run down the last two fighters. Without any enemies to help the time go by, they just had to wait on Specter to find the sub. Surely they couldn't stay under that long, though? There was no way, and yet it seemed like Torres was trying to push his luck as much as he could. If he could keep most of his crew alive at the bottom of the ocean for two years then maybe there wasn't anything he couldn't do.

In the middle of their agonizing wait, David had kept his word and called them back. "Hello?"

"About time you called back!" Naomi said to him, actually relieved to hear him. He had either figured out the answer or he was close to it. "We're right in the middle of a search. How are things?"

"I just got off of a call with the air base just outside of the city!" David informed them excitedly, which Naomi took as a sign that they'd been able to find a solution. He went on. "We're going to jam this entire region using the air force's EW aircraft!"

"Whoah!" Lanza gasped.

"Well, I guess that's one way to do it," Fencer chuckled.

"All radios are going to be disabled! Controlling the drones with terminal guidance will be impossible!" David continued, talking almost as fast as Tabloid did if you got him going on something. With a sigh he decided to add a jab towards Húxiān and Avril, "It's crude, but effective."

Húxiān stifled a laugh which turned it into an amused scoff. "Bastard!"

David ignored her comment, answering only with a chuckle. "Unfortunately, all cell phones will probably stop working as well. This might be our last call, but I'm going to do everything I possibly can to stay in touch. If you're all sticking this through to the end, then you damn well better believe that I am!" Even if he wasn't out there fighting with them, Naomi had to admire the drive and dedication that David had to this operation. She hadn't known him long, but she'd really grown to like him. He didn't seem to want to leave, but he had to say a quick goodbye anyways. "Well, they're gonna start the jamming any minute now, so I don't have much time. If I can't get back, I want to wish you all the best of luck in stopping Torres!"

"Go! We've got everything handled over here!" Count called out to him. "Thanks for all the help, though. In spite of all the quiz games you made us play, you really pulled through in the end. Appreciate that."

"It's the least I could do when you guys are out there putting your lives on the line for us," David replied, sounding as if he was smiling. "Bye, you guys. I'll talk to you back at the base when you all come home safe and sound."

Just like that, the call with David ended and Naomi doubted they'd hear from him for the rest of the mission. Still, she hoped that they might be able to somehow. He deserved to share in their victory. Even if she wasn't as optimistic about the outcome as he was, whatever happened he deserved to be a part of. Without him they probably wouldn't have even made it this far, and Naomi and the others really owed the guy. Maybe once the war was over then they could get in touch with him, find a way to thank him for the help. She couldn't dwell on this for too long, as at last Specter had something for them. "Alright, we've picked up the _Alicorn_ underwater! Sending coordinates!"

As the _Alicorn_ surfaced, everyone rushed to reach it in time, catching it right as the water settled around it. Right as they began to target it, their HUDs began to glitch and no one could get a clear lock on it. Right at that moment they chose to fire whatever anti air defenses they had left, a couple more barrier drones being among them. "What the hell?!" Kathryn blurted out, having to dodge a missile and barely managing to get out of the way in time. "Long Caster, my HUD's glitching! I can't get a lock!"

"I think we're all in the same boat," Jaeger said with a sigh, and he broke off along with a few of the others. Naomi continued to circle around the sub though, looking for a way to get through somehow, and Count followed her. Jaeger took notice. "Trigger, Count, how're things over there?"

"Same on our end..." Naomi replied, trying to stay focused on her task. "Long Caster?"

"We've identified the source of the jamming and it's location aboard the _Alicorn_," Long Caster replied quickly. "I'm guessing they're pulling out all their tricks now. Trying to protect what little they have left. You could still make the shot, but it would be better if you didn't waste ammo and risk your lives when you don't have to." After he said that, he updated their HUDs to show the location of the jammer. "If you can find a way to, destroy the jammer and the rest should be easy from there on out."

The location of the jammer was right on top of the Alicorn, on the arch above the flight deck. She couldn't get to it unless she went in low, and there was an almost perfect gap in their defenses and between the barrier drones, but they were readying the remaining railgun. But if her timing was right, there might be a way to kill two birds with one stone. It wouldn't be easy, and she'd have to be precise, but she'd done crazier things before. "Count, I'm gonna fly in and take out the jammer and the railgun. You remember how I like flying through things, right? Just like that, but...y'know. Higher chance of dying, I think. Should be easy though.

Count let out an exasperated sigh and worriedly replied, "No, no, _no_, Trigger. You better not be thinking about doing what I think you're gonna do. Absolutely not, you dumbass! Just wait for the damned drones to go down!" When Naomi didn't answer him and instead began to work her way around and make her approach, he huffed and added mostly to himself, "Fine, go and get yourself killed, you freaking maniac. Ugh...why did I think that sinking this stupid sub was gonna be easy?"

"Relax, Count. I've done crazier things before, right?" Naomi asked, but he only grumbled out a reply. She couldn't quite make out what it was, but she was pretty sure it was 'cocky dumbass' or something close to that. She let out a quiet, dry laugh, his comment for some reason giving her an extra boost of confidence. It gave her an extra reason to do this. Nervously, she lowered her altitude and once again flew through the gaps in the drones' shields. The railgun had been raised at this point and the blue light from it along with a muffled whining sound told her that it was preparing to fire. First order of business was to destroy the jammer, so she switched to her pulse lasers immediately after making it through the barrier and fired as quickly as she could.

By this point, the crew must have realized what she was trying to accomplish, and somehow got a rather damaged machine gun up and running to fire at her. Her plane was pelted with bullets from it and it nearly knocked her off course. She had no choice but to stop her attack on the jammer, running out of time and having the option of either destroying the jammer or destroying the railgun. Switching to regular missiles as she was halfway along the flight deck (barely keeping her plane from stalling) and managed to get a lock on the railgun. Before she lost it, she fired, and the missiles barely managed to find their way to the target before it followed the same fate as the first one.

The barrier drones were starting to fall now, but she figured she might as well stay on this course. It was easier that way, and although she took a few more hits from the gun, she could still pull it off. _Thank God for Avril_, she thought as she glanced at her wing to assess the damage. Just a couple of dents and scratches, but nothing that the great Scrap Queen couldn't fix. _Well, time to go big or go home_. Picking up speed before she stalled right into the flight deck, Naomi flew her plane right underneath the arch on the _Alicorn_. The rest of the drones fell to the water and as she reached the other end she pulled up as quickly as she could and put a comfortable distance between herself and the ocean below, dodging another volley of missiles and machine gun fire that the _Alicorn_ desperately sent at her, almost getting hit but managing to evade just in time.

"Jammer is still active, but both of the railguns have been destroyed!" Long Caster announced to them. "Awesome!"

"Hahaha!" Count let out a loud, genuine laugh that made Naomi grin wildly, a strange feeling of comfort and pride washing over her at the sound of his laugh. "Trigger tore both of its arms off! Ha! Your craziness actually paid off for a change!"

"For a change?" Naomi scoffed, but she wasn't actually annoyed with him. Not any more than usual, anyways. She chuckled. "Ha! What do you mean 'for a change', asshole?"

Before he could answer, Knocker cut in. "Hey, I wouldn't let my guard down, guys. There's no guarantee that monster only has a pair of them, and the last thing we need is for someone to lose focus and get themselves killed."

"He's right. All of you, watch yourselves or you're gonna get hurt," Jaeger said, although Naomi didn't expect anything less. They were the more experienced and even if Naomi was in command it didn't mean that the older pilots weren't going to let her know what they thought. Or bring her back down if she got too confident. Naomi also knew what happened when someone lost focus, and she wasn't going to let that happen. Jaeger didn't stay serious for long, and happily egged them on. "Now let's go and slay this beast so we can go home!"

Naomi was quick to react, and they all hung back and let her take the lead. She switched her target to the final ballast tank and made a dive straight for it, preparing to fire another pair of missiles. Their jammer hadn't been destroyed, but it looked as though it was damaged enough to stop working. At least temporarily anyways. She got a lock and as usual fired as soon as she did before pulling out of the dive. Both of missiles went straight down, hitting the ballast tank and Naomi could only hope it was destroyed. She circled around, ready for another run, but it had been destroyed. Long Caster confirmed it a moment later, "Target hit! The ballast tank has been destroyed!"

"The submarine's outer hull is severely damaged!" Faun called out excitedly. "It won't be able to dive like that!"

Everyone let out their own shouts and cheers of victory and Naomi joined in, all of them letting themselves get caught up in the moment. To her surprise, David's voice joined in. "Awesome work! The submarine is stuck like that! They're too vulnerable to attempt anything else!"

"David?" Skald asked, his cheers coming to a stop and the others being quick to follow. He chuckled. "It's great to hear from you again, but I thought you couldn't make calls anymore!"

"I'm using a payphone!" David chirped, as though nothing nerve-wracking or any near death experiences had just happened. "And for the first time, too!"

In case they had to keep fighting, everyone was still on edge, but they managed to laugh a bit at what David said. The _Alicorn_ was still moving, and the remainder of Osea's fleet had managed to catch up by now, cruising along a good distance from the submarine. A new voice came over the radio, with ringing and nervous chattering in the background. The voice wasn't unfamiliar. It was the same cold and almost haunting voice that had given the speech they'd heard before. Naomi immediately tensed up, the voice letting out a defeated sigh. But something about the tone was off, in spite of the comment that it made. "We surrender..."

Everyone else was just as disturbed and confused as Naomi was. "What the hell? Who is this?" demanded Clown.

"What's going on?" Lanza asked nervously.

"Is that the enemy?" Boggard added in.

"Everyone, quiet!" Naomi ordered suddenly, her voice sharper than she'd meant for it to be. She wanted to know what was going on as much as everyone else, but they couldn't find out if they never stopped talking. "I recognize that voice..."

Torres' voice came again, more frantic than before. It actually sounded like he was on the verge of tears, but not quite there yet. "This is the submarine aircraft cruiser Alicorn. We surrender!" he raised his voice slightly as he called out to them. "Do you hear me? We surrender! _Stop shooting_!" The last two words were spoken with extra emphasis, and the fear in his voice was more evident than before. Naomi wasn't sure what to believe. It still sounded...off. Wrong, somehow.

"All aircraft, cease fire!" Long Caster ordered quickly, in case anyone had any ideas.

Nobody tried to continue the attack, but not everybody seemed happy about the order, Naomi among them. Count was the first to speak up. "That's a con man talking," he said with a huff. "Trust me, I should know."

"Count makes a good point," Naomi said, holding back a shudder. From what little she knew about Count, he was a fraud. He knew when people were faking, and after what Naomi had been through with previous commanders, it wasn't hard to guess when someone was lying or what lengths they'd go through. "We shouldn't just trust them blindly like that, not after everything we've heard about them. Not after everything they've done since they escaped the first time!"

"You remember the _Puffin_, don't you Long Caster? They're cowards who'll do anything and kill anyone to get to their goal. There's no telling what they're gonna do the second we let our guard down!" Húxiān practically yelled. "C'mon, let's just sink it!"

"Negative!" Long Caster snapped at her, trying to keep his usual demeanor but seeming a bit more annoyed than usual. "We cannot attack those that have surrendered! It's a breach of international law!"

Torres cried out once more. "I repeat! We surrender! Please!"

The sound of his voice made Naomi nervous, and she wasn't sure what to do. With everyone starting to argue, she couldn't take sides but her gut was telling her to fight. To make sure the enemy was gone. Frustrated, she radioed Long Caster, "What do we do, Long Caster?! We have no reason to trust them! It's either them or the people they're trying to kill!"

"Weapon use is prohibited!" Long Caster said sternly.

"They're monsters, Long Caster!" Count replied with a growl, starting to lose his temper. Naomi wasn't far behind him. "If they don't play by the rules, then why the hell should we?!"

"Count's right. We're not dealing with honorable men, we're dealing with war criminals!" Tabloid joined in on the protesting. "Why hold international law so dearly?"

Grimm scoffed, obviously not agreeing with the sentiment. "Are you guys out of your minds? We obey international law because we'll no longer be soldiers the moment we don't!"

"Then I'll happily quit my career!" Count retorted. "Don't you idiots see that there's more at stake here than a couple of lousy, pointless laws and protocols we have to follow?"

"I've seen enough pointless violence during my life and career without you all adding to it because you're too hot tempered to know when to back down!" Kathryn joined in on the argument. "Until you've seen the shit that I have, you don't get to act like you get to decide who lives and dies! They surrendered! That alone is enough of a reason to trust them, you moron!"

Although she liked Kathryn, the comment and insult directed mainly towards Count set her off. "You have no idea what we've seen since this war started! Count's right, and you idiots are taking your morals too far!" Naomi said, feeling her temper coming to a boiling point and it wasn't going down any time soon. And she most definitely wasn't done with her lecture. "This isn't an 'us versus them' situation anymore, so why don't you all get that through your heads! We're betting someone else's life here! We're gambling with _civilian_ lives! With your own _goddamned families_!"

Everyone around her went silent, not expecting her outburst, and Naomi did feel bad for yelling at Kathryn after the help that Kathryn and her husband had given her during her trial. But her gut instinct was still telling her that the captain was lying. What Count had said only confirmed her suspicion. He was lying, and there was no reason to trust him. Long Caster, on the other hand, did not keep quiet and continued to make it clear what the order was. "Do not attack, Trigger!"

"Fine. Let's give him the benefit of the doubt," Naomi sneered, not liking it but not moving in to attack. If she didn't, then she trusted that Count and the others that were in agreement with her not to attack. "Captain Torres? We have your word then?"

"Trigger...so you're Three Strikes, then? I've heard many things about you. And your brother and father. It's an honor to...unofficially meet you at last," Torres replied. He didn't sound sinister when he said it, more curious and tired than anything else. Every bone in her body was telling her not to relax and to be ready for anything. Torres let out another sigh, the bells in the background from earlier having gone silent. "We will surrender. We're currently making preparations to be disarmed."

"Captain Torres, I'm David North, an analyst at the Osean Intelligence Agency," David said slowly and calmly, likely having heard the argument between everyone and trying to speak ini as soothing a manner as possible. Either that or he was just wanting to tread lightly with everyone. "Captain, we've already jammed your terminal guidance system over Oured. It was wise to surrender. Even if you hadn't, your shot would have missed its mark."

"Oh, really? Is that so?" The change in his tone, almost as if he was playing dumb, made Naomi swallow hard, clenching her free hand and her jaw. If he tried anything, then he'd regret it. But Torres seemed to be taking his time, carrying out a rather casual conversation with them. "Let me tell you a story, analyst. Three Strikes, I'd advise you to pay close attention as well. Back when I was a gunnery officer, I had to aim at an enemy ship 30 kilometers away in the middle of a storm." He let out a dark chuckle, and Naomi could spot movement aboard the _Alicorn's_ flight deck. "The seas were rough that day, and still, I landed one of the two shots."

"Here's a question for you. Was your plan elegant?" David asked, but the only answer was an irritated sigh from Torres. David went on. "The answer is...yes." With that, he chuckled. "Well, at least it was until Three Strikes ruined it!"

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF BEAUTY?!" Torres roared at him, the eerily cold calm that he had earlier long gone. The movement on the flight deck came to an end, only because the barrel of the railgun they'd been shown in the briefing had risen up from it. Naomi wanted to shout to let everyone know that he was still going to try and fire, but nothing came out when she opened her mouth. She acted on instinct, and immediately broke from the formation they'd gotten back into and began a race towards the _Alicorn_.

"Everyone, they have no intention to surrender! Stop them!" David shouted. When no one else but her reacted fast enough, he gave her the warning instead. "Hit the barrel, Trigger! Hurry!"

"Wait, Trigger!" Lanza and Knocker both yelled at the same time, but Naomi ignored them.

"Stop attacking immediately!" Long Caster ordered, but again, there was no point. She wasn't going to listen to him.

As she began her approach, the _Alicorn_ sent up another swarm of barrier drones to create a shield in front of her as an officer informed the captain that the railgun was charged up and ready. "Target is the Osean capital of Oured! To take the lives of one million people, 5,000 kilometers away, with my very own hands!" Torres yelled over the open channel, laughing maniacally as he did.

Forgetting her fear of drowning, forgetting the risk of crashing, Naomi pushed her fighter up to its full speed and flew barely 100 kilometers from the ocean surface. She was completely fixated on the barrel, which Long Caster hadn't marked as a target. She didn't care. One way or another, she was going to hit it. As she dodged the barrier drone's shields and drew closer to the target, all she could picture were the faces of her family. Her mother, her sister and her brother-in-law, her niece and baby nephew...if that shell hit the city then they'd all be gone. And they wouldn't be the only ones. Her heart racing and almost all sound around her drowned out, she finally was clear of the drones and flew straight for the massive railgun, firing once she was almost right on top of it before pulling up and clear of the explosion.

The barrel wasn't destroyed, but both missiles hit and the force of the explosion knocked the cannon off course right as the light in the center pulsed and sent a charge forward. The shell had been fired. In spite of what she'd done, the shell had been fired. Naomi's mind was rushing through her thoughts faster than she could process them all. Skald was the first one to find his voice, taking a moment to fully realize what had happened. "It...it fired!"

"It's okay!" David said. "The shell will miss!"

Naomi let out a relieved sigh, but the battle had only just begun. Torres let out a furious, surprised shout. "What happened?!"

Count let out a laugh and proudly declared, "That's a blatant violation of orders, ya dumbass! And that's what happens when you screw with Trigger!"

Torres practically snarled like an animal in response, quick to start shouting orders to his crew. "Load the next shell! After two years at the bottom of the sea, I will not allow our perseverance to be desecrated! Did we not leave our fears behind at the bottom of the abyss?"

"All aircraft, follow Trigger and destroy the _Alicorn_!" Wiseman ordered. It had been a while since he'd said anything, but Naomi knew he'd heard everything that went down. She felt a brief pang of guilt and fear, knowing that she would likely have consequences to face after her outburst. Wouldn't be the first time she'd gotten in trouble over a dumb mistake, but she needed to worry about that later. Right now, there were obviously more pressing matters.

"Trigger, aim for the base of the rail cannon!" David called out.

As the _Alicorn_ sent up their regular, run-of-the-mill UAVs to intercept them, Naomi focused on the only high priority target on her radar. Missile warnings went off in her ear once again as the UAVs singled her out...there had to be at least twenty of the damn things, all of them swarming on her, and at least another ten launching as she approached. Her allies quickly jumped to her aid, Tabloid and Fencer teaming up with Faun and Knocker and Jaeger and Húxiān and driving them off in one direction, while Mage Squadron paired up with Footpad and Boggard and Lanza and Skald to take the ones in the opposite direction. Count covered Naomi as she went in, catching the ones that slipped by their friends and shooting them down before they could get to her.

The approaches Naomi had to make were nerve-wracking, and she missed the core of the gun with one missile, hitting it in the side and causing it to inch in one direction slightly. The second one hit it, but didn't do much damage to it, and Naomi had no choice but to pull up and try again. She could feel the time they had running out, but judging from the frantic conversation between Torres and a member of his crew, she knew that she had at least done something. "FCS error!" cried out a crewman on board the _Alicorn_. "Can't raise the elevation of the barrel!"

"Three Strikes in the sky is a sign of an ill omen...!" Torres muttered darkly, almost as if he was just realizing something he had heard before.

"Captain?!" The same crewman from before asked, his voice hoarse and worried.

Torres didn't waste any time, nor did he think to switch from the open channel, as he continued giving his orders. "All slow ahead! Flood the aft trim tanks!"

The officer didn't seem to like the idea, and almost seemed ready to just give in. As if he didn't see a reason to keep fighting. "There's no point anymore! Sir, if we do that then the boat will sink aft first!"

"And that'll give the gun the elevation it needs!" Torres yelled, followed by a deranged laugh.

Naomi shuddered, dodging a missile from a UAV as Count moved in to chase it down, lowering her altitude and flying low to attack head on and give it another hit. She was low on missiles, so she switched to her pulse lasers, figuring she'd use what she had left of those and get a better, potentially more powerful shot on the target. Unfortunately, it also meant she had to drag her approach out for longer. But she was taking the risk. She began firing after centering the target, managing to get a couple of solid hits on it that only spurred on Torres' cackling. She couldn't help but say _something_ to him. Anything to stop that laughing. "You're out of your damn mind, Torres! What the hell do you think any of this will accomplish?"

He was way past the point of reasoning, but she still wanted to ask. "DON'T YOU SEE, THREE STRIKES?! Ten MILLION lives will be saved at the cost of a mere million!" Torres bellowed out, as if this was some grand idea. The perfect crime, so to speak. "The suffering would be only temporary! Future generations wouldn't know of war! It would be a fairy tale, something only minor fractions of which are told in history books! Your children, your grandchildren, your great-grandchildren! They'd live in a paradise, a world in which boundaries aren't threatened in a show of pointless power! And all it takes is a small, INSIGNIFICANT sacrifice that _you_ are unwilling to make! You're a coward, just like those that came before you!"

"You liar!" Naomi spat at him, grunting as she made a hard turn and lined herself up to fire again. "You just want to kill people and scare them into submission! You're a power hungry psycho, and I'm not gonna let you get away with it!" She switched to her missiles and got as close as she could as fast as she could, promptly firing when she had a lock on it. It damaged the gun, but it was still holding up. Frustrated and the image of her home and her family still stuck in her mind, she figured she'd join in on his yelling with her own declaration, "You're going to wish you'd died at the bottom of that ocean, Torres, BECAUSE I'M GONNA SEND YOU BACK TO IT, YOU BASTARD!"

"Trigger, you put an end this!" Wiseman ordered as a means to encourage her.

"Don't hesitate!" Jaeger added, in a more heated and determined voice than she'd ever heard from him. "They quit being soldiers the moment that they faked their surrender!"

Shouts of agreement came from all of the others, and although she was in pain and tired, she had a burst of energy. Enough to finally finish this. Naomi flew in low, made another hit...one more ought to do it, right? It was still holding up, but it wouldn't be for long. "Nice work, Trigger!" Long Caster called out to her. "Your attacks are hitting the base of the rail cannon! It won't be able to last much longer!"

"HAHA! You just made a statement right there, didn't you, Trigger?" Count asked her as he helped Húxiān finish off a drone that was trying to get free.

As the dogfighting continued, Naomi circled around and got ready to make what she hoped would be the final attack before that stupid sub called it quits. Torres continued with his monologuing as his crew desperately began following his orders, the ship slowly sinking and raising the nose and the cannon. The shot would be perfect. He was practically giving it to her. It was either genius or suicide. "A powerful boat, a powerful gun, powerful ammunition! Add to that lots of people and a precise aim! Then sprinkle death all over it, and the formula is complete! HAHAHAAAA!"

"You're nothing more than a mass murderer!" David said to him, raising his voice above the chaos around him and around Naomi and the others.

"Then indulge me! What makes you and I ANY different?!" Torres sneered, and Naomi was actually interested in hearing what he had to say. She shook off another couple of drones, noticing that they were getting more and more stubborn and determined. Count and Tabloid quickly chased them down. Torres went on. "You're willing to kill the three hundred men aboard this boat to save a million. They're both done in vengeance, to save the life of another! HOW IS THAT DIFFERENT?!"

"Trigger, give him the answer!" David said to her. "Have him take it to the bottom of the ocean!"

"Already planned on it!" Naomi replied, heading around once more and making sure she could get a good angle. She wasn't going to mess this up.

"Don't you see? DON'T YOU SEE?!" Torres demanded. "Landing a clean shot on a difficult target! That is what makes it elegant! THAT is true beauty!"

"Finish him off, Trigger!" Fencer yelled at her.

The crew of the _Alicorn_ began finalizing everything in the meantime. "At plus 4!"

"Everyone, grab something!" the officer from earlier ordered, perhaps the only reasonable sounding one aboard that ship.

"60%!"

"Alas, you don't see, Three Strikes. OF COURSE YOU WOULDN'T!" Torres yelled at her, and Naomi began her final dive towards them, the gun's core exposed and vulnerable as the submarine. The captain chuckled. "And now it's time to see who the victor will be, Three Strikes. We'll know soon enough, now won't we?"

Naomi gave everything she had to get within range as quickly as she could, switching back to her pulse lasers and firing before she was even within range. Anything to try and speed along the process. It felt like it was taking forever. Her teeth were clenched and she had a white-knuckled grip around her flight stick, pulling the trigger as hard as she could to keep firing. The only thing she felt in her hand was pain. Her ears were ringing and her eyes were watering. The _Alicorn_ continued to slowly sink, raising the elevation. They were almost ready. She fired everything she had left, making a split second switch from the pulse lasers to her missiles and firing the last two that she had, praying they'd hit and crying out against the pain she felt as she made a high-G turn and climbed up into the sky.

"Target hit! Target hit!" Long Caster called out.

"ALRIGHT!" Count cheered. "WAY TO GO, TRIGGER!"

"Oh yeah! That's the stuff, Trigger!" Skald joined in, everyone else joining in with their own cheering, mostly whooping rather than actual sentences.

"Confirming explosions!" Húxiān said through a grin. "The rail cannon's been destroyed!"

With her entire body shaking, Naomi surveyed the damage. The rail cannon had fallen back down to the submarine's flight deck, in flames and spreading the rest of it throughout the ship. The electrical charge from it was affecting the rest of the ship, speeding up their demise. As the explosions continued, alarms ringing aboard the ship, Torres continued his insane laughter and speech. "Don't you see?! One million! ONE MILLION LIVES!" His laughing seemed to be fading into pained sobs, and there was scattered, scared shouting from the crew.

Naomi felt bad for the crew aboard the ship, but thankfully their radio transmission cut to static as the ship continued to burst into flames. With the largest explosion yet, the _Alicorn_ lurched upwards with the blast, bending like it was made of rubber instead of titanium. It looked as though it was broken in half, and Jaeger confirmed it breathlessly, "The Alicorn's hull is severely damaged...no, it's completely split in two!"

"She really pulled it off..." Kathryn muttered under her breath.

"And that's our final answer," declared David, and Count, Naomi, and the others all began to let out tired but overjoyed laughter.

The two halves of the Alicorn continued to sink back into the ocean, a once feared and powerful ship reduced to nothing more than a useless, unsalvageable piece of scrap. It sank under the surface of the water, groaning as it did and glistening in the setting sun. The black, metal beast was finally submerged once again. That wasn't the end of it though, and before the water settled over it, there was a muffled boom that sent a shockwave through the water and send a massive wave up into the air and scattered water like rain over the ships and allied aircraft as they flew underneath it. Naomi relaxed her grip and leaned back in her seat, lifting up her visor and watching the droplets of water scatter over her canopy.

"I see loads of floating objects in the waves," Grimm said quietly. "I don't think there are any survivors, Major Wiseman. It'd be a miracle if anyone made it out of that."

"Copy that," Wiseman replied with a deep breath. "The enemy submarine has been destroyed. The operation is complete. Time to head home, everyone. We're all waiting for you."

Húxiān chuckled, seeming in a state of shock. "That was just unbelievable. Just...all of it."

Count chuckled. "Yeah, you've got that right...but, that's our girl for you. Pulling off the impossible every day, right Trig?"

Naomi's cheeks felt hot from the compliment, and she didn't know what to say to answer him. David filled the silence with his own speech, as exhausted as the rest of them. "There are some who send those around them to their doom. Like Captain Matias Torres, who was the devil incarnate. But there are others..." Naomi closed her eyes as he spoke, finding the musing soothing after the battle. She was flying on auto pilot, taking joy in whatever relaxation she could get. David went on. "Others who show the way to everyone else. Those who stand at the forefront and cast a light. Those who follow them can't help but feel that they're in the right hands. That they'll make it. This is an era where there isn't a singular answer like a quiz question. The world awaits a hero to keep the torch aloft, banishing the darkness. A protector, bringing peace and hope. A true leader."

"Quite the poet," Tabloid said, and Naomi had to agree. That was some speech he gave.

"That's a story I'm gonna have to tell my kid," Jaeger said with a sigh.

"All aircraft and David, the operation is complete. Return to base and get some rest," Long Caster said to them. There was the sound of him rubbing his hands together, and there was anticipation in his voice as he said, "Oh man, finally time for some munchies! Could you hand me the burger over there? Oh, and the knife and fork too, please!"

"Okay, Trigger, I think the real threat is your AWACS," Boggard said quickly, feigning being worried. "What kind of a person eats a burger with a fork and a knife? You eat it like a man and make a mess or you don't get to eat one at all!"

"Ugh, stop talking about food or I'm going to eat my plane...I'm so hungry," Naomi said, sitting back up in her seat.

"Tell me about it," Count said, chuckling. "Once I get back to base, I'm heading to the mess hall."

"I'm with you on that one, Count," Naomi said, grinning. She pulled up and picked up speed, the others following. Just for the sake of things, she performed a little victory barrel roll and laughed. "Alright, guys, let's get outta here. It's time to go home!"

* * *

Author's Note: _Well, that brings the Alicorn arc to an end and I'm kinda sad about that, since it's been a lot of fun. The next chapter will cover the debriefing and everything, then it's on to Cape Rainy, so stay tuned! We're almost to Farbanti and I've got some things planned. ;)_

_Sorry about the wait on this chapter and for how long this one is. There was a lot of stuff I wanted to include, and it was hard to really get it going, but I hope that it didn't disappoint and that you all enjoyed it. I'm off to take a really short break now and get some rest myself but I'll be back with the next chapter before too long. On an unrelated note to that, can you believe that this month marks a year since I started this crazy story? I just want to say thank you to everyone for the insane amount of support y'all have given me while I've been writing this and I hope you stick it out until the end!_

_Hope you all enjoyed the chapter and have a great rest of your week!_


	35. Rest Period

Chapter Thirty-Four: Rest Period

|...|...|...|

**New Arrows Air Base, Eastern Usea.**  
_**September 14th, 2019.**_  
**2006hrs.**

|...|...|...|

When the four squadrons along with Specter made it back to base, they unfortunately couldn't go straight to the mess hall like everyone had wanted to. Specter Squadron's crew had all been allowed to go, but everyone else was to report to HQ for a debriefing. As Naomi and Count led the way inside, they were immediately bombarded by their three friends that had stayed behind. Avril, to Naomi's surprise, playfully punched Count's arm and actually _hugged_ Naomi. As Tabloid stepped into the room, standing between Naomi and Count, Avril let go of Naomi and gave Tabloid what had to have been a rib crushing embrace. He grunted and chuckled, but returned the hug without any protest.

The guys had a much less personal response, standing right in front of them and smiling. Tailor was smiling at least, patiently waiting to hear any stories that he could. Bandog on the other hand just stood there smirking with his arms crossed, briefly glancing down as Sarge took notice of their return and bolted past with her tail wagging in order to greet those that she knew. Sarge let out an excited bark and raced to Naomi first, then greeted Count and Tabloid, and quickly approached Húxiān after that. Everyone got a turn in petting Sarge, although she was a little suspicious and snappy with Golem and Mage's pilots. After a while she payed them all little to no regard and ran back to the other end of the room to get attention from Wiseman and Naomi's dad.

"I can't believe you morons actually managed to pull that off," Bandog said with a chuckle, sounding amused but also impressed at the same time. "From the way things sounded, I thought Count was gonna piss his pants when Trigger started acting stupid." He gave Count an almost condescending look, eyes lighting up and the smirk starting to look a bit more smug. Like he was getting back at him for something. "Now when did you start caring about other people, hmm, Count?"

"Oh, shut up, Bandog," Count grumbled, but he eventually laughed the comment off. Bandog scoffed, but he didn't push the subject.

"Things were looking pretty bad a couple of times," Avril put in as she stepped back from Tabloid, leaning her weight off of her bad leg as usual and placing a hand on her hips. She was actually smiling for a change, which was a rare but welcomed sight. "You dumbasses are real lucky. I just hope you didn't screw your planes up too bad, otherwise that luck of yours is about to run out."

Everyone glanced at one another with the comment, knowing that she wasn't making an idle threat. It was the third warning they'd gotten that day. Once before they left, then again during the operation, and now this. They hadn't taken too much damage, maybe taken a couple of hits from enemy machine guns, but other than that their fighters were basically in perfect condition. Still, she'd have to fix them once again and make sure they still flew properly and since Bandog was pretty much forced into the title of being a mechanic, Avril would basically be doing all the work on her own. But, Tabloid came to the rescue and spoke first, "Maybe a couple of scratches, but other than that, we're all fine."

Avril narrowed her eyes on him and pursed her lips briefly as though deciding whether or not she believed him, but something close to a look of relief flashed across her face. After a while she shook her head, rolled her eyes and let out a quiet laugh. "Whatever," she said at last and Tabloid grinned. Naomi glanced between the two of them, noticing what Tabloid had said and Avril's reaction to it. It confirmed the theory that Avril's coldness about their planes and apparent concern for her work was just a cover up. At least, that was what Naomi chose to believe.

"Enough talk about that, though!" Fencer said excitedly from where he was standing, stuck in the middle of their somewhat large crowd. "Can't we just get outta here and get a nice party going? I'm starving!"

"You'll all get your chance to celebrate before long," Wiseman raised his voice a bit, having overheard their conversation, and they all looked to him. He was smiling slightly, working with the computer to get a call with David set up. Wiseman's brow then furrowed and his smile went straight as he looked back down at what he was doing, almost distractedly telling them, "But save it for later. For now, get over here and sit down before the commander gets here."

His tone wasn't harsh, but they all knew better than to argue with him. Without another word, they all made their way further into the room and took their seats as Wiseman continued his work. Before long, Colonel Hawkins entered the room with a tired look on his face. There were noticeable bags under his eyes and his shoulders were slightly slumped, but he straightened up before too many people could notice. It was also clear that he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. Naomi hadn't seen him since before the start of this submarine madness, and it seemed that he'd been cooped up inside his office for some time. In one hand he held a fresh cup of coffee and tucked under the other was a stack of about three files.

They all prepared to stand at attention to greet him, but as soon as they started to move, he shook his head and motioned for them to stop. "There's no need for any of that. I'm just stopping in to do this debriefing real quick, then I'll be off to bed. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to get more than an hour of sleep..." Hawkins nodded to Naomi's father as he stopped beside him, then looked curiously towards Wiseman. "Any luck with Analyst North yet, or are you still trying to get in touch with him, Wiseman?"

"Working on it now...he said it might take a while for cellphones and everything to come back online. When I checked in after the operation when he was still on that payphone, he hadn't gotten his signal back yet," Wiseman quickly explained, then he typed a couple of things into the computer, clicked it, and the sound of the other line ringing came from the speakers. Wiseman grinned and straightened up. "That's the first call that actually went through instead of failing. We should have him any second now."

Sure enough, the call was answered soon after and David's face popped up on the screen. "_Sorry for the wait, everyone. It took a little while for everything to go back to normal. Plus, I had a bit of damage control...sort of, anyways..._" David trailed off, glancing distastefully at something out of frame. After a short pause he looked back to them. "_You can go ahead and start the debriefing now. I'm sure you've all got other things you'd rather be doing after these last few days._"

"I mean, eating would be nice," Boggard commented and he was promptly jabbed in the ribs by Footpad. He winced and glared at his friend. "What?! That AWACS dude got to go and eat. Hell, he got to eat on his plane. I'm hungry."

"Shut up, you big baby," Footpad hissed at him, and the comment itself reminded Naomi of something Brownie probably would have said if she were here. Apparently Footpad had learned a thing or two from Faun and Brownie after all. At least when it came to keeping Boggard in check.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hold you here for long. Sorry about that, kid," Hawkins said patiently, giving a tired smile. "I just want to go over and tie up any loose ends so you all can rest easy. Overall, aside from some stress due to the loss of all internet and cell service combined with a very minor clash and a couple of superficial injuries sustained during the protests in Oured, all civilians are doing well and General Perrault is handling all the information to the public. There's a choice that has to be made, but we're likely informing the public of the basics about what went down today. Once word spreads in Erusea that the submarine went down, the folks in Osea are gonna be dying to hear our side of the story." He paused, taking a breath and scratching the back of his head absentmindedly. "As for that shell that was fired, I'll leave that for you to explain, Analyst North."

David nodded. "_Thank you, Colonel,_" he said. Without hesitating, he began his portion of the debriefing. "_The shell that was fired from the railgun would have missed Oured by several miles, however we estimated that it would instead land somewhere else in Osea, impacting a surprisingly small portion of the southern coast. The most likely place to be hit would be one of our major coastal cities, and we're pretty sure that it likely would have hit somewhere near Redmill, even affecting areas along the coast all the way down to Bana City._" For a moment, it felt like the happy mood was about to go down and they were going to find out that their victory didn't mean much, but David was smiling. "_Now, that would have been bad, except for one pretty interesting little miracle. Somehow, Erusea intercepted the shell. In theory it would be impossible, but the shell was about halfway there and was just popped right out of the sky. I have no idea how, nobody does, and according to our contacts Erusea is refusing to say anything, but there's a rumor that it was an order straight from the King himself. I think someone in their government is starting to get the right idea._"

"Either way, the submarine was destroyed and so was the shell that it fired," Hawkins finished. "The operation was complete."

"So, can we celebrate now?" Naomi asked quickly, noticing that some of her friends were eagerly fidgeting in their seats.

Wiseman exchanged an amused look with Hawkins and Naomi's father before he chuckled and nodded. "Yeah. Good work."

"YEAH! WHOOOOHOO!" Everyone cheered and sprang up from their seats as if on cue, Lanza and Boggard throwing their hands up into the air. Naomi laughed and wrapped her arms around Count's neck, pulling him into a tight hug. One which he surprisingly didn't fight. He just laughed at it. Next thing Naomi knew, Tabloid had hugged her from behind and soon everyone joined in on a big, ridiculous group hug. Together, Count, Tabloid, and Lanza had hoisted her up into the air slightly while everyone else joined the hug, playfully wrestling and still cheering. Everyone except for the older ones in the group joined in. Knocker and Clown both rolled their eyes and chuckled at the display, while David had joined in on the cheering and laughing himself. Kathryn and Grimm, who were sitting towards the back of the room, were fighting off smiles and shaking their heads.

Hawkins, Naomi's father, and Wiseman laughed at them but the celebration was cut short as Wiseman smirked and added, "Don't think your work is done, though. Your next operation is in 32 hours."

"What?!" Naomi and a few others said simultaneously, and her wingmen promptly dropped her to the floor.

"Gimme a break!" Count huffed out, and the others joined in on the whining as well, only furthering their commanders' amusement.

"But just for tonight, you all can go out and have a good time. Hang out at the mess hall, have some drinks, watch a movie. You earned a break," Wiseman added after their complaints stopped. "Now get outta here. Go and relax, have a nice talk. That's an order!"

And it was an order that no one argued with. They all stood up to leave, filing out of their seats. As Kathryn and Grimm stood up and made their way closer to the group to speak with Knocker and Clown, Tailor's eyes went wide with recognition and a mile wide smile appeared on his face. "Hans?! Kathryn?! What the hell are you two doing here?" he said, and everyone stared at him in surprise as he walked over to them. "I didn't even see you guys! I thought some of those voices during the operation were familiar, though!"

Naomi looked between the three of them curiously as Grimm and Kathryn stepped forward, smiling, and gave Tailor a proper greeting of a handshake, followed by a hug. "You guys...know one another?"

"He's my kid cousin," Grimm answered with a smile, playfully ruffling Tailor's hair much to the latter's annoyance. Tailor did laugh nonetheless, receiving a hug from Kathryn as compensation. Now that Naomi saw Tailor and Grimm side by side, there was some slight resemblance. They had similar facial features and face shape, with sharp and thin features. Their hair was different colors, with Grimm's being reddish brown as opposed to Tailor's black hair, but both men had short hair that stuck up in a couple of places but was overall fairly neat.

"Huh. Well, you learn something new everyday," Jaeger said with a smile, some sort of curiosity in his eyes. "Good piloting must run in the family, then. Tailor's shaping up to be quite the fighter pilot. Once he gets some experience under his belt, he'll be well on his way to flying as good as you two." That was where the curiosity came in, as Jaeger and the others began to lead the way to the door he asked Grimm and Kathryn, "Speaking of...I'm betting there's a good story behind that. You two were amazing with those drones. Where'd you learn to fly like that?"

The conversation got more and more distant as they opened the door and began to head out, but Naomi took a couple of steps and stopped. Count noticed and looked back at her, confused and concerned at once. He raised an eyebrow. "You comin' or not, Trig?"

She looked over her shoulder and then nodded towards the door. "You guys go on ahead. I want to thank David for his help. So, just save me a seat and I'll catch up in a few minutes. Alright?"

Count shrugged and began following the others. "Alright, if you say so. I can't promise that there'll be any food left when you get there, but I'll see what I can do."

Naomi watched him leave and smirked at his comment, but once he was gone she turned around and made her way over to her father, Hawkins, and Wiseman. They were finishing something up with David, so she waited until they finished what they were saying. When they were done, they noticed her standing and for a minute seemed concerned. "Trigger...I thought you left with the others," Wiseman said. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, I just figured I should thank David for his help," Naomi replied. "Unless you're in the middle of something, because I could just go ahead and go. I don't want to interrupt anything important."

"Actually, we were just finishing up here," Hawkins said and gathered up what he was taking with him. "Nice work, Captain. By the time this war is over, you and the rest of the LRSSG are probably going to be swimming in medals." As he walked by, he patted her on the shoulder. "Keep up the hard work, kid. I'll see y'all around."

Everyone said 'goodbye' to him and the commander was off, likely heading back to his office. As Naomi looked to David, she could see that he was patiently waiting for her to start talking. So, taking a breath and offering a smile, that's just what she did. "I wanted to thank you for everything you did for us out there, David. Without you I don't think we would have found out about Clemens or been able to defeat that submarine," Naomi said quickly. "You may not be out here fighting on the front lines, but you've got the spirit of a soldier. It's been a lot of fun working with you, quiz guy."

David smiled and then gave a sheepish laugh. "_I was really just doing my job, Captain. If it hadn't been for you, I probably couldn't have done it. You and your squadron inspired me. Adapting to insane, overwhelming situations and facing problems head on as they come. Thinking on your feet, never backing down...but at the end of the day, you're still people. Crazy, _crazy_ people, but still people. I guess in a way we actually helped one another._"

The two of them both let out tired laughs, and Naomi nodded. "Yep. I guess we did."

"_I've got one last question for you. Will Osea bring the war to an end? The answer is: yes! And it'll all be because of the LRSSG and the brave, skilled pilots that serve in their ranks,_" David said with a cheeky smile, his eyes lighting up. He seemed very confident, but Naomi thought he might be giving them too much credit. He suddenly sighed, and said, "_I'd love to stick around and chat some more, but I've got to finish this report before my superiors come for my head. The worst part of this job has gotta be the paperwork, I swear to God. That all being said, I've had a lot of fun with you guys. Hopefully one day we'll be able to work together again, or maybe meet up one day. If you and your squadron are ever back in Oured, I know a great coffee place. Not many people know about it, but they make the best damn mocha I've ever had._"

"I might take you up on that offer some day. Maybe I'll try and drag Avril and Bandog along too, let you see more of them," Naomi said, chuckling. The thought of doing regular, everyday things again was nice to think about. Going out for coffee with friends was always nice, but it'd been a long time since she'd done that. "Thanks again, David. It was nice to meet you. Well, sort of."

"_I've had fun working with you guys. That's a great little group you've got there,_" David replied.

Naomi glanced at Wiseman, who was smiling, then looked back at David. "Yeah, it really is."

"_Good luck on your next operations, Trigger,_" David said with an almost sad smile. "_See you around._"

"Same to you, David," Naomi replied. "Take care."

The two nodded to one another and Wiseman and her father said their goodbyes to David before the call was ended. Naomi actually found herself sad to see him go, but she was happy that she had a chance to thank him for his help. She hoped one day they'd be able to meet in person and have that coffee, but they had to get through this war first. With guys like David working hard and watching their backs, they'd be done in no time. So with that thought in mind, Naomi headed to the mess hall to catch up with her friends, Wiseman and her father promising that they'd be along shortly. It was time for a nice, however short, break. And to finally get some decent sleep when the night was done.

* * *

**2130hrs.**

The celebration got off to quite the start. Pizza, burgers, steaks, tacos, and various types of sandwiches, plus some salads that Jaeger had insisted on so there was some variety to the meal and they got some vegetables (as if they were children that had to worry about a balanced meal). For drinks they had just about everything. A couple of beers, soda, water, and about a million different types of juices. Not to mention the snacks. The entire plan that night was to just relax and pig out, and Long Caster had declared that there was more than enough for everyone. Hell, they'd pulled out a movie to watch. _Top Gun_. Of course it had to be _Top Gun_.

The film was an Osean classic, even if the 'Osea vs. Yuktobania' trope had been overdone. Thankfully it had come to an end after the Circum-Pacific War, but it was still an awesome movie in spite of that and really didn't focus too much on any actual warfare and was a safe choice. And rumors of a sequel had even been floating around recently, so it was a pretty much perfect pick. It was either that or _The Hunt for Red October_, which followed a Yuktobanian submarine. It reminded Naomi an awful lot of their recent engagement and the ultimate defeat of the _Alicorn_, and although Boggard had really wanted to watch it, he and the others were perfectly fine with settling on_ Top Gun_ instead.

As the movie went on, not much attention was really paid to it. They would switch between watching it and then talking about anything and everything. Swapping war stories, joking, catching up...anything. You name it, they talked about it. Boggard and Footpad almost got in a food fight, which Long Caster had quickly broken up before it could escalate too quickly once he realized that good food would be going to waste. In fact, he seemed almost desperate to stop it. But they finished up their dinner without incident after that and continued laughing and chatting with one another, all the stress and tension from earlier becoming a thing of the past.

One thing hadn't yet been resolved, yet. Kathryn had seemed to calm down a little bit after the battle earlier, and she and her husband seemed to be genuinely enjoying the movie and watching the plane they used to fly in action, but every now and then she got a strange look on her face. It was a mix between bitterness, fear, and defeat. Naomi didn't know what it was, and she was quick to hide it, but Naomi had felt bad for yelling at her earlier. So when Kathryn got up to go and get another soda, Naomi decided she'd go with her, asking her to wait up. Kathryn looked back at her, confused, but waited without any argument. Once Naomi caught up, they began a mostly quiet walk across the mess hall.

After a few seconds of awkward, somewhat tense silence, Naomi decided to speak up. "Look, I just wanted to apologize for yelling at you earlier. Everyone was kinda losing it, myself included, but that wasn't an excuse. I should have kept a level head, but I've...never been the best at that. I'm hotheaded and I had to speak my mind, but I shouldn't have."

Kathryn sighed. "No, you were right, Naomi. Partially, anyways. You were right about Torres. He was pure evil, and he needed to be stopped." She gave a sad, small smile as they reached the table where all of the drinks had been cleared out. Glancing over her shoulder, she made sure that the soldiers sitting nearby weren't paying attention before she continued. "I understand that you had everyone's best interest in mind, and I didn't. After what I've seen, I don't like to automatically assume everyone is my enemy. I lost my brother in the last war due to some...misguidance on part of our military and because he'd been stupid enough to buy into it and believe I had turned on him...and on my country. I fought in a pointless war and had to live in hiding because of lies. I guess I was just being selfish for wanting to give him a chance, but I should have seen through the act."

"Well, I guess that's where you and I differ. I've been double crossed too many times to just accept that people aren't going to do whatever it takes to win, even if that includes lying. And I'm tired of watching my wingmen die because we blindly trust people," Naomi said, reaching for her own drink of choice. Wiseman said that they could drink, provided they didn't end up with a hangover, so Naomi had put a limit of two on herself. It was enough to relax and unwind, but not enough to get drunk. Or rather, too drunk. Her senses were affected by it only slightly, and it didn't impair her ability to think. At most she felt a little lightheaded. So she reached for her second beer, and if she stayed up any later then she'd grab a water or soda instead.

She continued her conversation with Kathryn. "I shouldn't have yelled at you, though, and for that I really am sorry. I...well, I kinda look up to you and I don't want you upset with me. Especially after all the help you gave me a few months ago. Not to mention you've been looking after Clown, and I appreciate that, too. God, that makes me sound so girly...ugh."

"I'm not upset with you, and trust me, you don't sound girly. Well, not too much anyways." Kathryn chuckled and tried for a bit of joking. "Look, I'm really not upset with you. My pride's a little bruised, but I'll get over it. We've all got our faults, and I've got more than my fair share of them. You did a great job today, kid. You've managed to outshine me and you're practically on the same level as your father. Or...maybe you'd be closer to your brother at this point." Kathryn gave her a playful nudge and winked, causing Naomi to suspiciously furrow her brow in response. As Kathryn finished grabbing herself some cherry cola, she moved on from the subject. "Now get back over there and celebrate with your friends, and quit worrying about me. Your friend, Count, looks like a lost puppy without you. A very angry lost puppy, that is..."

Naomi rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. There wasn't any point, and the spark in Kathryn's eyes told her that she wasn't going to back down or apologize for the teasing comment. In a way, Naomi kinda saw where she was coming from. He did look a bit angry and uncomfortable, stuck carrying out a conversation with Tabloid and Naomi's old friends from Golem Squadron. As she returned to the group and took a seat between Count and Tabloid, Boggard quickly filled her in on the discussion. "Count and Tabloid here were just telling us about some of the crazy stuff you've done. Well, aside from what we've heard about...you must really like flying through things...a tunnel in Roca Roja, then a marine platform? You got any other surprises for us?"

Footpad laughed and shoved Boggard. "Of course she does, she's Trigger! She's been full of surprises since the day we met her!"

"Yeah. From the sound of things, she's our little daredevil now, huh?" Faun teased her. He was sitting beside Naomi, between her and Tabloid, and gave her a side hug after he gently punched her shoulder. She noticed that Count seemed bothered by the exchange, but it didn't stop Naomi from laughing. Faun suddenly went serious, letting her go. Brown eyes narrowed, he looked her over carefully. "Thankfully you haven't lost your good nature. We've heard some...other stories, too. And there was that outburst earlier."

Naomi sighed, trying to laugh it off, but the truth was that it did bother her a little bit. "Relax, you guys. I'm not all doom and gloom yet. I can have fun, but yeah. It gets hard sometimes. What would you expect after everything that's happened?" She glanced around the table, noticing Count roll his eyes. Footpad, Faun, and Tabloid shared a look, almost seeming to pity her for some reason. Boggard glanced up at the TV as the final scene of the movie had started to play and chuckled as something lit up in his eyes. Naomi noticed it and narrowed her eyes suspiciously, trying not to smile. "What's with the dumb look?"

"So, what you're saying is that...you've lost that loving feeling?" Boggard tried for the joke, raising an eyebrow and glancing between her and Count and the others.

Footpad rolled his eyes. "Can you ever carry out a normal, _adult_ conversation?"

Boggard gave a stupid grin and Naomi's old friend began to 'dance' in his seat, singing along with the song as it played on the TV (the volume having been turned up for the sake of the evening). He was, rather surprisingly, not as off key as she would have expected. It still wasn't very good singing, though. "You lost that looovvvin' feeelin'! Whoah that loooovin' feeelin'!" He was grinning throughout the whole thing, swinging his arm around Footpad's neck and forcing the latter to sway along, much to his agitation. After a short while, though, Footpad gave in and began to grudgingly sing along with him. "You lost that looooOOovin' feeeeelin'! Now it's gone, gone, gone, whooooaaaoh!"

It wasn't long before Faun joined in, then Tabloid, grinning from ear to ear. The rest of their friends had come over to see what the commotion was, and even Avril was smiling. Lanza and Fencer slid in and began to sing along, followed quickly by Skald and then Tailor. Wiseman and all of the older pilots sat nearby and laughed at the somewhat decent singing, while Bandog, Avril, and Húxiān stood and watched, trying not to smile. Soon most of the room was either laughing or had come in to sing as well. Naomi looked over at Count and nudged him, laughing herself as she spoke over the singing, "Aw, c'mon, you're not gonna join in?"

Count sat there with a sour expression on his face, obviously not happy with Boggard's 'serenading', but he gave her a surprised look when she asked him. "You're crazier than I thought, Trigger. Do I look like a rockstar to you?" He crossed his arms and scowled. "I don't sing..." Naomi raised an eyebrow and smirked, setting her drink down and hopping up, the song and singing still continuing (not that she expected it to stop) and she grabbed Count's arm. His eyes went wide as she pulled him to his feet. "What're you—"

She cut him off before he could protest, tilting her head to one side and giving him as wide and cheeky a grin as she could manage. "If you don't sing, then we can dance instead."

"I think you might be a little drunk, Trig." He said this as though he was trying to get a rise out of her, but she noticed that he swallowed nervously as she began to guide him in a very awkward, clumsy dance. He actually seemed embarrassed as he looked to Bandog and noticed the smirk on their friend's face. "This is stupid..."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Then be stupid. Have some fun, let loose."

The song went on, now with more people and sounding a bit closer to the original tempo. "We had a love, a love, a love you don't find everydaaay! So don't, don't, don't, DON'T LET IT SLIP AWAAY!" the bad singing continued and Naomi laughed, managing to get a smile out of Count as their clumsy dancing went on. He spun her, as awkwardly as the rest of the situation, but Naomi didn't mind it. She was actually enjoying it, and it seemed that Count was starting to loosen up, too. "BRING BACK THAT LOOOVIN' FEEELIN'! WHOAAAH, THAT LOOOOOVIN' FEEELIN'!"

Count and Naomi both stumbled a bit in their movements, but they laughed it off. Both of them. Seeing Count actually genuinely smile and laugh and have a good time made Naomi want to smile even more. Maybe she knew why at this point, maybe she didn't. The point was, in spite of the bad sing-along and embarrassing dancing, she was having a good time with her friends and having fun with Count. They got a short break from the stress of missions, and they'd had a success that day. The deserved a break. As the song was approaching what would be its end, due to that portion of the film's credits starting to come to an end, Naomi laughed along with Count and laid her head on his shoulder for a few seconds and they just swayed in time with the upbeat tune.

The song ended and the whole room either clapped or laughed or whistled, either because of the singing or because of the dancing or both. Most likely the singing, although quite a few people had been amused by the bad waltz. Naomi played it cool as she and Count pulled apart and she jokingly shoved him, but not as hard as she would have on any normal circumstance. Something softened the usual, playful hit. They took their seats again as _Danger Zone_ began to play and endured some light teasing and funny looks as the rest of the LRSSG squadron pulled up some extra chairs to join them for the rest of the evening.

For the first time in a while, everything felt fine. Like nothing in the world was wrong, like nothing had ever happened. For once she actually, genuinely forgot her problems. And she never wanted a single thing to change.

* * *

**Farbanti, Erusea.**  
**2140hrs.**

For a day or two, there had been peace around the palace. Peace which had come to an end almost immediately after the most recent story on the news. Parrish had come by a few hours before nine o'clock, after word spread that the massive submarine Alicorn had been destroyed. As far as Rosa could tell, no one in her family or on their staff had been expecting him, and from the look on both of her parents' faces, she could tell that they weren't happy about the intrusion. General Parrish was now comfortable enough to frequently drop by their home, unannounced. And shortly before dinner, no less. Rosa's mother, being a gracious host, wasn't about to turn him away, either. They were left with no choice but to dine with him.

Henri joined the meal, along with a major that Parrish had brought along with him. Their small talk was, as Rosa noticed, forced away from the subject of the submarine until dinner was over. Her father ordered that Rosa, Parrish, and the major into his office to speak with them. Leo had a less than favorable reaction to Parrish and the major, his muzzle twitching as if he was trying to fight off a snarl. The major, a Major Allard, was smart enough to not try the dog's temper. Parrish was more brash and ignored the warning, reaching down and pretending to be eager to see Leo as he patted him. Rosa reached down and ran her hand through her dog's fur, discreetly grabbing a tuft of his hair around his collar so that she could pull him back if he tried to lunge and bite.

Rosa trusted Leo to behave, and as soon as her hand touched his fur he relaxed and grudgingly let the retired general pet him. Parrish chuckled and smirked, as if it was some personal victory when Leo lowered his head to let Parrish touch him, a show of defensiveness and submission, rolled into one. He gave Leo a firm pat on his shoulder and looked over at Major Allard. The tone he used was teasing, like a child picking on his friend. "Haha! I told you, Phillip. The dog's an absolute sweetheart. Admit it, you're just scared."

Allard's blank expression briefly fell as his nose wrinkled slightly and he looked between Leo and Parrish. He cast an annoyed look towards Henri, who simply nodded and then shrugged it off as if there was a silent agreement between the two. Allard's expression shifted back to normal. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, General. I'm only worried because of the things I've heard...from you," he said as they all spread out around the room, earning a scowl from Parrish. Allard raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more, understanding the transparent warning.

So Parrish had been telling lies about Rosa's beloved companion. Nothing surprising there. Parrish never did like Leo, and the feeling was rather mutual. But she didn't say anything, and kept up a smile as she took a seat. Henri stayed put by the door, muttering something through the mic he used to communicate with the other guards. Rosa seriously doubted that there was any threat they had to worry about. Their military was loyal to the very end, something her father firmly believed had to do with her, and most of the civilians were too occupied with the ongoing evacuation. There wasn't any reason to worry, and just once Rosa would have liked to not feel like she had to look over her shoulder to do...well, anything.

"So, François, I take it that you and Phillip had something important to discuss?" Rosa's father said as soon as everyone was settled. There was some obvious annoyance in his expression and partly in his tone as he glanced at his watch. Rosa had grown used to his annoyed tone after his excessive use of it over the last few months, no longer flinching as though she was the one in trouble. "Otherwise you wouldn't have come into my home, practically red with anger, on my _one_ evening without any work extra work, all to disrupt my family meal and all other plans I had this evening?"

"Believe me, sir, I wouldn't have done this on purpose," Parrish said apologetically, though the look in his eyes made it hard for Rosa to believe him. At this point, she wasn't sure that she believed anything that he said. Not anymore. "There's just so much going on. Major Allard has gathered some important information, which I feel the need to share with you. Not only that, but we've been investigating General Labarthe further. Apparently he wasn't hiding, but he gave himself orders elsewhere and we can't find where he's operating. Rumor was, he was in charge of half of the forces that were decimated at Anchorhead by that degenerate Three Strikes. He lost most of his forces, not to mention the important men — actually, forget that...the friends that we lost. He was lucky enough not to have evacuated, and he and his forces regrouped and are remaining at an area in Anchorhead. I still believe that he's supplying the Oseans with information..."

"That's nice. I already knew this, because, in case you've forgotten, I am the King and reports on matters such as these come directly to me. Not only that, but we discussed our military's failure at Anchorhead!" The anger in her father's voice was surprising to Rosa, and she could tell he was annoyed by this. "So, what else do you have to waste my time with, General? Or am I free to enjoy a movie with my wife and daughter, now?"

"Morale is failing, sir. Three Strikes is a nuisance and is crushing our forces. If we don't act quickly, then we won't be able to keep fighting. It's time to bring the princess back into the public eye. Provided she can stick to a script," Parrish said, glancing at Rosa and causing her to ball her fists. However, she shrank in her seat and relaxed after a stern look from her father, honestly too tired for much defiance. "We have a speech scheduled tomorrow, one to encourage those evacuating and to give our soldiers the extra boost that they need. Point is, we have to take more drastic measures or we're going to die. We've already lost the submarine and her crew. Captain Torres was the only one willing to make a tough call and make a statement. To show Osea who was boss. And Labarthe and a few of your conservatives got in the way of that."

Rosa's eyes widened and she felt anger building up, but she kept her voice level as always. "For the last time, General! Captain Torres would have killed innocent civilians! Women and children...what they did to us in their initial attacks is inexcusable, but you don't retaliate in the same cold and bloodthirsty way."

"It's a perfectly fair exchange, Princess. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. The punishment fits the crime, and Osea has done more than their fair share of crimes," Parrish sneered, sending a cold look between her and her father before continuing. "Unfortunately, there are laws about how you proceed. That being said, I have a solution to our biggest problem: Three Strikes. Now, I made sure that this information was complete before I brought it to your attention, Your Majesty, but I believe that it's worth sharing now. Phillip, if you would?"

Allard glanced at Rosa and then, without a word, lifted the briefcase he carried with him up and onto the table, unlocking it quickly and removing a file from it. He slid it towards Rosa's father, who regarded it with curiosity, and opened it up, looking over it curiously. Rosa couldn't see what it was, and he held it away from her so she couldn't try and read it. After a while, he frowned and furrowed his brow, slamming closed the file and tossing it onto the table with a loud _smack_ that echoed through the room. Rosa sat up stiffly and craned her neck, trying to see what the file was titled, but her father distracted her as he began talking. "So, that's the person that's been giving us a hard time? _That_ is who our military is so scared of? And you have a way you're sure that can stop this...pilot?"

"I'll be heading out to the EASA base early in the morning to check up on our progress, then I'm going to Tyler Island to meet with one of our other scientist. We're putting a rush on the Ravens," Parrish eagerly explained. "And we'll be sending Major Allard back into the field to gather some more information. But, as far as I can tell, the Ravens are the perfect solution. The only way that we can win this war, and the way to defeat that worthless Three Strikes. Three Strikes and Osea won't know what hit them. If I can deploy them as soon as I hope, maybe sometime before Osea reaches the capital, then we can defeat them."

"We don't have enough time before they get here, but maybe when we successfully cripple their satellites..." Rosa's father trailed off. He let out a heavy sigh. "I want to meet with your coworkers, General. We have to head to your headquarters, find a way to convince the conservatives that we have to deploy the drones. Or more of them, alongside your Ravens.." Parrish nodded and he and Allard started towards the door. Her father stood up, walking over to her as she did the same and placing his hands on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rosa. This is important, so I'm afraid that I won't be joining you and your mother for that movie. And...I want you to start packing. Parrish's mention of Farbanti has reminded me that I'll be sending you and your mother out of the city once all of the civilians have been evacuated."

"But, Father—" Rosa started to protest, but her father was quick to silence her.

"This isn't a debate, Rosa Cossette," he told her sternly, the use of her first and middle name indicating that any argument would not be met well. "I will be taking Henri with me tonight, but you and your mother will be leaving to head to a safe place very soon and Henri will accompany you. Pack everything you need, everything that you want, and make sure that you're ready to leave at any given moment. And go to bed early tonight. You're going to be speaking tomorrow." Rosa nodded and lowered her head as her father kissed the top of her forehead, ignoring the fact that he was speaking to her like a child. "I love you, Rosa. I'm sorry I've been so busy lately, but I will give you a break and spend some time with you and your mother as soon as this is sorted out. Please, tell her I'm sorry, hmm?"

Before she could answer, he hurried out of the room and after Parrish and Allard. Henri gave her a quick look of pity before he quickly followed after the king, leaving Rosa alone in the room. The door was open and she could hear their footsteps retreating and their echoing conversation. Sighing, she looked around the now empty room, down at Leo and then the file her father had looked at caught her eye. They left it, either on purpose or by accident, but the point was that they were hiding something in it from her. For some reason. Walking around the table, she reached for the file and pulled it towards her, scanning over the title. There was a bold warning that it was classified directly underneath the file subject, which had been marked out and instead replaced with a number. Rosa guessed it was supposed to mean something, she didn't know what, though.

_[#3S-015 | REDACTED | CLASSIFIED]_

Looking around, she made sure that no one was around before she curiously opened it. To her surprise, she was met by an OADF file, and one that belonged to the mystery pilot that everyone in their military seemed to be hunting. The ace that General Shilage was after. But it wasn't a man like everyone had assumed, and Rosa held back a gasp as she read on. How? It didn't make any sense. Three Strikes was supposed to be a ruthless killer, a feared and respected ace...this was the face of a woman. And one barely older than Rosa at that. This was the symbol of hope for Osea? The ace that was crushing their morale? Someone Rosa was old enough to attend college with, had she the time to go.

The last name was familiar. Foulke...she'd heard it before, but where? This entire file was all over the place. Three Strikes had a face, and one that didn't belong to a child nor to a killer. She looked bright, idealistic, and according to her file she was quick thinking and intelligent. Caring, too...apparently the other pilots she flew with were a notable weakness. And yet, she was said to have killed Harling. So what was she? This Three Strikes was more of a mystery than Rosa had previously thought. Was she a loyal Osean or a traitor out for whatever blood she could get her hands on? Harling had flown back to ram the elevator...to destroy it, right? That was the rumor. Had Three Strikes killed him for it? Or was she a victim of coincidence and circumstance, much like Rosa?

In such a short time she had been cleared and was seen as a symbol of both hope and destruction. Was that what Rosa was to her own people and to Osea? Both light and...death? She knew now for a fact that things couldn't be as black and white as she thought. As soon as she went to shut the file, planning to put it back and head to her room as though nothing had happened, she heard footsteps and the voice of Parrish demanded, "What do you think you're doing, Your Highness?"

Rosa jumped and quickly shoved the file away from her, having already closed it, and looked up to see that Parrish had come back. He must have been returning to get the very file Rosa was looking at. The one that, she quickly realized, she wasn't supposed to be looking at. She took a step away from the table as Parrish stepped through the doorway, not breaking eye contact as he approached to take the file. Rosa put a couple of feet between her and Parrish, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry, General. I was only curious. I didn't look at anything more than the photo, I swear!"

Leo pressed against her, letting out a low, cautious growl as Parrish picked up the file, a cold, curious look in his eyes as he looked down at the dog and back up at Rosa. "You're a horrible liar, Princess. I hope you know that," he said to her, and Rosa was worried he might approach her and grab her to show he wouldn't make idle threats. But he continued coolly, keeping the distance between them. "I hope that the file doesn't give you any smart ideas. Like 'oh, anyone can be a hero'. Trust me, very few make it through a war, so I'd suggest you stay in line unless you'd like to share a similar fate to what we have in mind for Three Strikes. That bitch should have stayed in Osea or died in prison. I fully intend to keep Erusea from being made a mockery of by what might as well be considered children. First that Three Strikes, the terrorist's daughter, and now you. The King's daughter."

He scoffed and Rosa felt herself trembling, either out of fear or out of anger. Parrish shrugged at last and smiled, pulling the file off of the table and tucking it under his shoulder. "I'd watch your back if I were you, Your Highness. Erusea deserves this victory, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you or that criminal scum of a pilot that you seem to admire so ruin that." As he left, he added over his shoulder. "You see, some of us still have Erusea's best interest in mind, Your Highness. You can fake loyalty all you want, but it's becoming evident who you're more sympathetic to. And you've picked the wrong side."

Rosa wanted to retaliate. To call him a hypocrite and a liar. But her mouth was dry, and as he left, closing the door behind him, there wasn't anything for her to say. Nothing that she could say. She fell to her knees shaking, and tried to keep her emotions reigned in but she felt her eyes stinging. She was loyal to Erusea, but maybe there wasn't a point anymore. Those drones would bring more good than bad, and she was supporting it. She felt wrong for not supporting the decision, and she knew that she had to prove to Parrish that her loyalty was to Erusea, otherwise what little faith that her father and their military leaders had left in them would be gone.

She pushed herself up from the floor, brought back to reality by Leo whining and licking at her eyes. Dusting herself off, realizing how childish her reaction was, she took a deep breath. Erusea needed her, and she needed to be loyal to her country. They were the good guys and Osea was the bad guys. She was nothing like Three Strikes...right? She shook her head, but she still felt herself doubting her own morals and thoughts. Maybe there actually wasn't a good side and a bad side. Maybe both sides were to blame. But she ignored that nagging feeling, and she would continue to do so until the war came to an end. That wasn't what the people and what their military needed to hear.

But it was what she wanted them to hear. Sighing, she pulled out her phone, sending Ionela a quick text before shoving it back into her skirt pocket. Maybe her friend had some advice. If not, she was running out of solutions and distractions. Right now, all she could do was play along and hope things turned out well. Once again, she felt useless and powerless. She was tired of it, and she was tired of being tired of it. If she could make it just a little longer, maybe things would be okay.

* * *

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
**2230hrs.**

Sol Squadron along with Dr. Schroeder had watched the news with great interest that evening, and Mihaly took notice that even his own granddaughters seemed fascinated by the story. Word had spread fast of the submarine and the crew that mutinied, hatching a plan to attack Oured and wipe out a million lives. It was named the 'Ten Million Relief Plan' but Mihaly didn't see how it brought any relief at all. He hadn't been in support of it, or rather he didn't care enough to condone their actions. He kept his thoughts on it hidden from the other four pilots he flew with, all of whom had very different opinions on the subject. Hermann and Roald insisted it was a barbaric plan, and while Wit and Seymour agreed that it was a bit extreme they also pointed out other ways the plan could have gone, achieving a similar result with little to no civilian casualties.

Much like Mihaly, their scientist companion hadn't cared much about the entire ordeal, but seemed curious about it for a few minutes before his work had quickly pulled his attention away from the TV. After the news switched stories to focus on less political, less extreme and more local matters, the interest in it seemed to diminish significantly. Schroeder returned to his work (soon retreating to the hangar), Roald went to bed, Hermann picked up the book he'd been reading, and Wit and Seymour played a game of cards. Ionela had been texting someone and flicking through whatever it was she looked at on her phone, while Alma had curled up on the couch with her stuffed bear and used Ionela's shoulder as a pillow.

The room was quiet, and the TV had been turned off. Mihaly sat in one of the chairs with a hot cup of tea Ionela had made for him. Some ridiculous herbal blend with some health benefits to it. He didn't care to know the name of it or exactly what was in it, otherwise he wouldn't be quite as interested in drinking it. There had been plenty of nonsense words Ionela had used, going on a rant about how the women of the Shilage family had passed the recipe of the tea on for generations and it was supposed to help with...something. He'd tuned most of it out, like he did with many of her rants. She reminded him so much of her mother, always fretting over his wellbeing. His wife had been the same way. What was it about his family and the need to take care of him as though he couldn't take care of himself? He shook his head and took a sip from his tea, noticing that Ionela had shut off her phone and was beginning to nod off.

He set his drink down and stood up, the conversation between Wit and Seymour having quieted down as a courtesy to Mihaly's granddaughters. Grunting as he rose to his feet, his old joints making standing up an uncomfortable ordeal, he crossed the room to the couch and gently rubbed Ionela's shoulder to get her attention. As if realizing she'd been falling asleep and as though she hadn't been trying to, she flinched and her wide, brown eyes shot open and flicked up to him, silently asking what he was doing. "Get up and go to bed. You'll hurt your neck if you fall asleep like that," he said gruffly and quietly. "I'll help with your sister. Now, up."

Ionela didn't argue, carefully lifting Alma's head so she could get up. Alma whined a protest in her sleep, muttering something, before she adjusted to the new sleeping position and rolled over. Ionela rolled her eyes at her younger sibling, but left her alone and instead went over to where Mihaly had been sitting, investigating his half empty cup of tea and setting it down with an exasperated sigh. "Is it really so hard to drink one cup of tea?" she asked him, and had it not been for her sister sleeping and the presence of his wingmen, Mihaly suspected she would have raised her voice. When he glanced at her and reached down to scoop up Alma to carry her to the girls' room, ignoring her comment, Ionela crossed her arms and frowned. "It's still warm. I'm not going to bed until you finish it."

"You are going to go to bed now, because I told you to." Mihaly retorted, as flatly and calmly as he could. Her expression was blank, but the look in her eyes told him she wanted to argue. "Walk with me, Ionela. Before your sister wakes up and gets her energy back." She followed without any protest as they left the room, the remaining members of Sol muttering goodnight to the three of them as they left the room. Mihaly could tell she was upset about the tea. Still. She was _always_ upset about the tea. That damn tea. Keeping his voice as quiet as he could, he said, "Let it go, Ionela. I drank enough of it to last me more than a lifetime. Maybe if you'd let me have a cup of coffee once in a while then I might finish it."

"It's not about the tea. I don't care about the tea." Ionela had obviously not taken well to his poor attempt at a joke, glaring daggers before the look turned to one of...fear and distaste. He had never seen Ionela look scared. Not since she was very young. He didn't press the matter, giving her time to come around on her own. After a minute of silence, Alma still sleeping soundly as they walked, Ionela let out a sigh. "I'm trying to do everything I can to help you on the ground so that you have an easier time in the air...I'm doing much better than that Dr. Schroeder, anyways...and you don't even seem to care what happens anymore. You don't even seem to care if you come back or not. The tea is just...a part of that."

Mihaly let out a very small chuckle, a rare thing that only his granddaughters were allowed to witness. "I doubt that tea is going to do much good at this point. I'm getting old, Ionela, and I'd rather not prolong my life unless I could get more out of it. Again, I think that blend is just an old family tale that got passed down and stuck. It might taste alright to some, but it probably doesn't have as many health benefits as your mother or grandmother told you it does." He recalled a memory from when he was a young boy and his own mother 'taught' him about the tea. He still remembered it. It hadn't been a very pleasant afternoon. "My mother gave me some once, when I was very young and rather sick, and all it did was ease the soar throat I had. The virus didn't go away."

"I'm not saying it's magic or something. I don't expect it to heal you overnight, but...I feel like it might be doing something, even if you don't realize it," Ionela said. Although she was fifteen and rather mature for her age, she still sounded like a scared child in that moment. She glanced at her sister, Alma gripping her stuffed animal tightly as Mihaly carried her. "You remember when our parents died, don't you grandfather? Alma was too young to remember, but I was a mess for months. If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have even tried to get better. And I don't want to lose you. If there's even a chance I can help you, I want to do it. I _have_ to do it. And it doesn't help that you don't want to cooperate!"

She raised her voice slightly and Alma stirred a bit, causing both of them to look at her, worried for a moment they'd woke her. Mihaly sighed. "Ionela, you don't understand. Nor do I expect you to. You aren't a pilot. Your father was, and he understood what it was like. Until you know what I feel when I fly, that all that pain is worth it in the end...you can't understand. You're a child, and one that needs to understand that I won't be around forever. The day that I can't so much as stand up on my own is the day that I stop flying."

They reached Ionela and Alma's room and Ionela unlocked and opened the door without a word, allowing Mihaly to step inside and lay Alma down on the bottom bunk. He helped Ionela tuck Alma into bed, the child miraculously still sleeping and only mumbling something sleepily before she rolled over and completely. Once she was sure that her sister was asleep, Ionela marched out into the hallway, fully intending to let him know what she thought of the comment, and Mihaly reluctantly followed her. He cast one look at Alma before he left the room, for the first time considering how she might feel to lose him. She was too young to fully understand her parents' deaths, and it wasn't until much later when he and Ionela explained it to her. She had been sad, but she had few memories of them. So how would she feel if suddenly the only person left to take care of her was Ionela?

As he flicked off the light and shut the door behind him, he turned to face Ionela and looked at her expectantly. Ionela took a deep breath to get her emotions under control. "You're so determined to face Three Strikes in battle, but have you ever considered that you might lose? This...woman is young. Less experienced but she's already given you a hard time. In that valley. You told us about it. You came close to losing." Mihaly started to protest, but she wasn't finished. She waved a hand and scoffed. "You're the King of the Skies, there's no arguing that. You're a brave man and a fierce pilot, but you can't win all the time. And I don't want you dying for a pointless cause."

"I couldn't care less about the war, Ionela. I'm not doing this for anyone else but me. And you may not see it, but for you and your sister, too," Mihaly explained with a sigh. She looked down at her feet, realizing that there wasn't any other arguments she could make. He stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. "Ionela, you've always tried to help everyone else and take care of them. Your purpose is your family and looking out for others. That's what drives you. You and your sister are the only family I have left, and if I lost my purpose and my reason to fight then you'd lose me in a worse way than if I died. And I couldn't bare to watch you suffer."

"You saw what Three Strikes did to that submarine..." Ionela said fearfully, her voice cracking. "And you're not invincible. Not like that crew thought they were, anyways."

"That was luck, Ionela, nothing more. A man fueled by madness that made one too many mistakes. Three Strikes practically had the target handed to her on a silver platter," Mihaly said to her, a bit offended that his granddaughter. "Sooner or later, luck runs out."

"The same rule applies to you." Ionela lifted her head to look at him, any signs she was going to start crying quickly fading away. "Your luck has limits, and you're going to push yourself too far."

Mihaly met her eyes, frowning slightly before he changed his expression back to being blank. "Ionela, I'm not going to be defeated by an overconfident child. Three Strikes is my problem and mine alone, and I don't intend to lose."

Ionela looked as though she had more to say. Much, much more. But she clenched her fists and turned away from him. "Goodnight, Grandfather. I'll see you in the morning." And with that, she turned away from him, shutting the door behind her and leaving him by himself in the hallway. He felt bad, knowing he'd probably hurt her feelings, but he didn't have the energy to put up with her being a moody teenager any longer. So he went for a walk, hoping to forget about the discussion entirely.

He knew that Ionela was only worried about him, but she was letting her concern turn into some sort of bitter resentment. Either towards him or Schroeder...even towards the Princess or Erusea as a whole. Either way, Mihaly was determined to prove that he was still the King of the Skies. Three Strikes may be a challenger, but just like every pilot before her she would fall. He didn't care about Erusea or even his former home. The skies were his kingdom, and Three Strikes posed a threat to that. And just to prove Ionela wrong, he was going to defend his title and his honor, and show Solo Wing's daughter how a real ace fought. And he would come back in one peace.

That was a promise he made himself, and one that he silently made to his granddaughters. The time for their fight was coming, and he was eagerly awaiting it.

* * *

**New Arrows Air Base, Eastern Usea.**  
_**September 15th, 2019.**_  
**0700hrs.**

It was quiet around base that morning, everyone exhausted from either the operation the day before or the long night of celebrating that had followed it. Either way, most everyone was granted permission to sleep in as long as they'd like. Bandog took advantage of this and went to the hangars early with Sarge to have a little time to themselves. He let Sarge run and play fetch as much as she wanted, even getting in some running himself. It wouldn't be long before the Scrap Queen was up and giving him a hard time, then before long Trigger and the rest of the idiots they'd made friends with would be along to bug them. Truth be told, he actually didn't mind them so much anymore, but he had a bit of an act to keep up.

Sitting down on the concrete and leaning back against the open door of the hangar, he switched between keeping an eye on Sarge (who was perfectly happy to just run in circles) and watching the remainder of the sunrise. He wished he could find a job for himself and Sarge where they could both be useful, and he'd actually put in some training with the MPs during what limited free time he had. They hadn't been happy, but they gave him a chance. Sarge was a working dog, not really suited to the lifestyle she was stuck in now, and he wanted to continue working with her. So he requested a position as a handler, filling out all the paperwork he could find and sending it to Hawkins. All he had to do now was wait, and he had no idea if they'd actually let him do it.

It was all a very strange process, and he'd been shuffled from so many places and positions since the start of the war that he hoped they'd overlook this one. Perhaps he should have been grateful for everything he'd been through, otherwise he wouldn't have been knocked down to an airman and stuck with the other enlisted soldiers. Which meant he wouldn't have been able to even try working with Sarge. Still, he had to keep in mind that he might not be allowed to move over, having worked vastly different jobs in the past. Sarge didn't seem to care. She was good at her job whenever she got a chance to do it, case being escorting Clemens to his transport so they could ship him off to a court martial.

Bandog smiled, recalling how beat up Clemens was thanks to Húxiān and Trigger. He had to hand it to them, they had guts to pull a move like that. It was even more satisfying than the time that Bandog had punched him, though this time no one really got in trouble for what happened. The look on Clemens' face when Húxiān came at him, then when Trigger followed. And the defeated look on his face when he was in his cell and finally when they shoved him on that plane. Bandog chuckled. It was nice that Clemens finally had a taste of what it was like to be the screw up for once. Bandog was glad the guy was gone, finally going to get more of a punishment than a mere slap on his wrist.

Seeing Húxiān go after Clemens without any hesitation, all because he'd played a part in what had happened to her and Strider over Anchorhead, had also changed how he'd looked at her. She'd had his interest ever since she'd made it through Yinshi alive and had been more than willing to cuss out the cowards that had retreated during the operation. Húxiān was smart and feisty and watching her just punch Clemens without even worrying about the consequences had been...well, it was something. Not to mention how well she had flown during the operation to sink the Alicorn. Cyclops and Strider Squadron were lucky to have her flying with them, and Bandog was lucky just to have met her. It would have been nice if he could know her better, though.

"Hey, Bandog!"

He practically jumped out of his skin when he heard someone call his name, turning his head to see the subject of his thoughts approaching him. What was she doing out here? Húxiān raised an eyebrow, smirking as she stopped a couple of feet away from him and looked down at him. She had the top part of her flight suit zipped down with the sleeves tied around her waist, wearing a tank top in place of that. Earbuds hung around her neck and she held a half drunk water bottle in one hand. Judging from the way she looked when the sun hit her, and how her bangs were wet and sticking to her forehead, he guessed she'd been working out. Or something.

"Lieutenant Hirose...er, Húxiān, I mean. Hi." Bandog cleared his throat and quickly scrambled up from where he'd been sitting, trying not to sound as awkward and uncomfortable as he felt. Where had she even come from? Playing it cool, wanting to come off as not having been startled by her showing up like that, he crossed his arms and relaxed a bit. "I didn't think anyone else was up. After that party last night and all the work you and the others did...I figured you would want to catch up on some rest."

"Nah, that's not really my style. I've gotta do somethin', otherwise I feel like dead weight," Húxiān replied, pausing to take a few gulps from her water bottle. Sighing, she explained, "Most of us got up already. I saw Trigger and Count on their way to the mess hall to join Mage and Golem for breakfast, and I bumped into Avril and Tabloid not long after that. Probably headin' in the same direction. Weird how those four pair off like that, huh? Kinda makes you think there's somethin' going on."

She let out an out of breath chuckle, but Bandog gave a small, hint of a smile at the comment. He suspected that there was some truth to that statement. Tabloid obviously had been pretty awestruck with Mead for some time, and as cold and rude as Mead could be, she seemed to have a bit of a soft spot for him in return. Whether or not they'd do anything about it was a completely different story. Count and Trigger were harder to read, though. They'd struck up quite an interesting friendship towards the end of their time at Spare, and they were a powerful force together in the air. Not to mention how close they'd been since Anchorhead. It didn't seem like they enjoyed being apart for too long. Not to mention that little dance number from last night. Maybe there wasn't anything, maybe there was, but if there was then the two of them were far too stubborn to admit it.

Wanting to change the subject, he racked his brain for something. Anything. "So, I'm assuming you were out for a run?"

"Yeah, actually. I do it every morning. Well, on days I'm not flying, at least. At least then I feel like I'm getting something productive done," Húxiān said, no longer out of breath like she was before. She took another sip from her water, then narrowed her eyes on him. "What're _you_ doing up so early?"

"I wanted to make the best of the silence. I don't get much alone time any more, thanks to those dumbasses," Bandog gestured towards the building where the mess hall was, "and Sarge needed the exercise. So I figured I'd come out here, take some time to think before things got busy." He sighed, looking inside the hangar where Strider Squadron's planes were lined up. Thankfully it wouldn't take much work to get them where they needed to be, but Bandog was still dreading it. He scoffed, smiling to let her know that he meant it in a playful, joking way. "No offense to any of you, but I really hate working on your planes. Maybe once in a while you could bring them back without a bunch of holes in them?"

"Hey, we did good this time! That was our best performance yet!" Húxiān protested, giving his shoulder a shove. She was grinning, and her eyes had a mischievous spark in them. "Those IUN guys did really good, too. I don't think you really have to fix them up at all. They're pretty good. Not as good as Trigger is getting, but they pulled their weight." Húxiān looked out at the runway for a minute, taking in the sunrise as she spoke. With a deep breath, she looked back at Bandog. "Anyways, why don't you come and join all of us for breakfast, and relax a bit? You and Avril have been doing as much work as the rest of us. I'm sure you're tired. Also, I know a couple of people who would be happy to see Sarge again."

"Thanks for the offer, but I might just hang around here until it's time for lunch," Bandog said, not wanting to decline her offer but not really ready for the noise and loud conversations. He really missed Zapland, where everything was quiet and he could sit in an office and just think for a bit. That was about the only thing he missed from Zapland, but it was still important to him nonetheless. "Believe it or not, I've had a crazy last few days. Seeing Clemens again and hearing about McKinsey being out there...it's been crazy. Too much drama from the past that I haven't really had time to unload." Realizing what he'd said, noting the curious and borderline concerned look on Húxiān's face, he tried to continue and lighten the mood with an embarrassed laugh. "Eh, sorry. Just a bunch of bullshit, really. I don't want to sour your victory from the other day."

Húxiān gave him an understanding look, then shrugged. "Truth be told, it ain't really my victory so much as it is Trigger's. I just did my job, and even then I wasn't very good at it."

Bandog frowned. "If I recall correctly, the word you used during the mission was 'pathetic', right?"

"I mean, at the time it was accurate," Húxiān replied, actually defending the comment she'd made during the operation. "Look, I'm not Count. I'm not gonna lie and go on acting like I'm some bigshot. If not for Wiseman and all the help he and Jaeger and Fencer have given me, I'd probably be long gone, stuck in some job I hate back in the city. I've always had other people lookin' out for me, so it never seems like I'm working hard enough to do the same for them." What she was saying sounded...sad. It made Bandog feel sorry for her, but the tone she used was dismissive. Like she didn't care at all. "I did the bare minimum, but I still did my job. Like I've said, Trigger may go about things a bit too recklessly, but I still owe her for Yinshi Valley. After what she did there, you'd think I'd be able to return the favor and not struggle so much during a battle. You get what I'm sayin', right?"

"It's not your fault. You're still beat up from Anchorhead." Bandog nodded to the mark on her head, which was healing nicely. She wasn't as scraped and bruised as she had been, but evidence of the battle was still pretty much fresh. Húxiān huffed and reached up to touch the scratch, scowling at him as if she was angry for him pointing it out. He smirked. "I think you're being a bit too hard on yourself. You're amazing during a fight, on the air and the ground. Taking down those enemy fighters for Trigger yesterday? Decking the brigadier general? And countless other things. I'd say that makes you pretty badass. And I know Trigger _and_ Wiseman wouldn't want you to give all the credit to her. I'd say you've earned the right to be a little proud of yourself."

"You did a good amount of work, too. Helping Avril with the planes and all that," Húxiān said to him, although she seemed a little taken aback by what he'd told her. "But I don't see _you_ celebrating."

"Alright, fine. Be stubborn if you want," Bandog said. "But it doesn't change that you earned that victory as much as everyone else did." He shrugged, crouching down as Sarge came over to get a drink from the water bowl he'd set up for her earlier. Sarge came over to him without having to call her, accepting a couple of pats from him. "Besides, I already gave you my excuse. I have a lot of things to think about. You, on the other hand, don't have an excuse."

Húxiān didn't look too convinced. She rolled her eyes. "And to think you call me stubborn." Although they both seemed to enjoy the minor banter, Húxiān had something else on her mind. "If you're this bothered by that guy, even now that he's behind bars, then why haven't you said anything about it? I mean, we've all asked about your history with him and you brush it off like it's no big deal." She gave him a curious look, but the tone she had switched to using was almost accusing. "So, what gives? Just how badly did you and Clemens get into it?"

Bandog let out a groan, almost frustrated. It would help to get it off his chest, though. Trying to keep his voice level and seem casual, he said to her, "Look, I didn't have an easy time growing up. Only way I thought people would listen is if I used my fists. I went to the military and thought I grew out of it, but when I decided I didn't want to go down the path of a fighter pilot and wanted to try something new, Clemens figured he'd make it hard. He started insulting and threatening me, so I fell back on the only other method that would get people to listen to me." The memory had been a blur for some time now, but retelling it brought a couple of images back to the light. "Broke his nose. He got reprimanded, stripped me of my rank, and told me I would get what I wanted in the end. After that, I was off to Zapland."

"Which is where McKinsey comes in, then?" Húxiān asked.

"Yeah. Kinda funny, isn't it? Two guys that probably would love to see me dead alongside Trigger teaming up," Bandog scoffed, standing up and taking a deep breath. Sarge licked his hand as if to try and comfort him, but he nudged her muzzle away from him and she just sat down beside him instead. "Now I've got one problem taken care of and the other one is back on the loose. I might insult Trigger and the others a lot. They're dumbasses and someone oughta tell them once in a while. But...I dunno. I guess I'd consider them friends, and I know McKinsey hated her. He hated all of them. I'd just hate to see them get hurt more, after all they've been through already."

"That was it? _That_? You could have said something sooner," Húxiān said, seeming a bit annoyed. "I may not have known you long, but you're a part of our unit, now. And as far as I'm concerned, that makes you a friend. Besides, you think you're the only one that's had a rough life?" He blinked at her. It was his turn to be curious. Gruffly, Húxiān went on. "I spent my whole life having to answer to people like Clemens and getting pushed around by them. I was practically taught from birth how to fight, then tossed out into the world to make do. If it hadn't been for these jackasses I met in the military then I'd probably be dead. But no one can help you if you never ask them for it."

"You're one to talk. From what I've seen, you like to handle things on your own. A lot," Bandog said.

Húxiān stifled a laugh, fighting off a smile. "Yeah, okay, I should take my own advice once in a while. Doesn't change anything. Now, how about you talk to Trigger and the others or just spend time with them while there's still time? It might set your mind at ease. You never know, do ya?"

Bandog looked her up and down for a moment, still caught up in the drastic change their conversation had taken. He did want to be alone, but at the same time it might help him feel better if he at least tried to spend time around people. And he didn't want to let Húxiān down. She was too stubborn to take anything else for an answer, too. "Alright, fine, you win. I'll go with you and join the others."

She gave a smile. Still playful, but not as wide as it had been earlier. "That's just what I wanted to hear. Also nice to know I'm not the only one to...assault Clemens." The two of them gave weak laughs at the dark comment. Húxiān was the first to stop. "You know, when it comes down to it, Wiseman was right. You're a pretty cool guy, Bandog."

He cringed a bit at hearing the name. It was what he was used to, but something about her saying it just didn't sound right. He didn't like it. And besides, he needed to take the step sometime. With...someone. Might as well be her. "Well, as happy as I am to hear that, what say we start over? Drop the callsigns?" Bandog suggested, and Húxiān gave him a look that said to go on. So he did. "My real name's Joshua. Joshua Marsh. I always hated it, but if you want to call me that instead then I don't really mind. Just...do me a favor and don't go spreading it around the base? I'd like to give Count as little ammunition as possible."

Húxiān pretended to think for a moment. "Joshua...not I bad name. I like it. And I won't spread it around base provided you do me one favor."

Bandog furrowed his brow. "And what's that?"

"You stop calling me 'Lieutenant Hirose' whenever you see me," Húxiān replied without even having to think about it. There was some genuine distaste in her voice, and it was made clear that she didn't like all the formalities. "It's 'Húxiān', or if you have to use my real name, then 'Erika'. I really don't like being called Lieutenant. It makes me feel like I'm in trouble, and trust me, I've been in a lot of trouble before." Quickly petting Sarge, then gesturing for him to follow her, she made her way towards the main buildings. "Now c'mon. I'm starving and I'd like to something to eat before Long Caster devours it all."

For just a few seconds, he hesitated, turning and watching her go. And he felt better about the day. Better than he'd felt ever since Clemens had shown up again. He never got to see the somewhat deep and 'gentle' side of Húxiān, but he knew that he wished he saw more of that. It was...oddly refreshing. Looking down at Sarge and Sarge looking up at him, he shook his head and began to follow Húxiān before she asked him why he wasn't coming. And Sarge took off ahead of them without having to be told, probably having some idea of where they were going.

It was looking to be a better day than Bandog had set out to make it, and he had Húxiān to thank for that. Not that he planned on telling her about that any time soon.

* * *

**1300hrs.**

"I wish you guys could stay longer," Naomi said as she walked alongside Knocker and Clown, the three of them on their way to the hangar. She'd spent as much time as she could talking with her old squadron and leaders and trying to catch up with them and enjoy their company while she still could. But inevitably it had come to an end, and they were preparing to leave within the hour. The night before had been fun, but she really didn't want them to leave. At the same time, she knew and understood that they had to.

The rest of their wingmates were already at the hangar, Strider and Cyclops having formed an interesting friendship with the rest of Golem Squadron. Tailor and her father spent their time with Kathryn and Grimm, though, and she could tell that, although Tailor seemed to enjoy his family's company and vice versa, he was still feeling left out. Kathryn, in spite of what she had said when Naomi had attempted to apologize, seemed put out and distracted. She and Naomi were still on relatively good terms, but Kathryn had barely said anything to her or acknowledged her with anything more than a nod before looking away. Grimm appeared as though he was aware that something was bothering her, but aside from that he remained as friendly as ever.

As the three of them reached the hangar where Golem and Mage's planes were, Mage Squadron's F-16s were parked outside of the hangar for the minimal maintenance that had to be done on them, while they'd managed to squeeze Golem's planes inside one hangar. Naomi's father stood by while Kathryn and Grimm checked over their aircraft, talking about something or other. The rest of the pilots were standing in the doorway to the hangar, joking and laughing with one another. Naomi was happy that they had hit it off, although it didn't matter much if they were leaving.

"I wish we could stay too, kid. But we've all got jobs to do," Clown replied with a sigh, ruffling her hair with a smirk. "Besides, you and the LRSSG here are takin' on some pretty risky missions. You've got enough to worry about without havin' to look after us, too."

"Haha! You'd be surprised at how good I've had to get at multitasking. If not for Wiseman and Jaeger, I'd honestly feel like an overworked mom," Naomi said, glancing at her friends. She looked back at Knocker and Clown and realized that she wasn't telling them anything new. "But...with how much of a handful me and Boggard and all the others are...well, I guess you guys already know that. And all you have to do is ask Wiseman and my dad. Hell, even Long Caster. I've gotten into my fair share of trouble since I've got here."

"Yeah, we already heard about all of that," Knocker said, and although he crossed his arms and acted like he was about to lecture her, she noticed that he was fighting off a smirk of his own. "Can't say we're not all worried about you and your friends after all the shit that McKinsey put you through, but at least you're somewhere better, now. You really could tone things down a bit, just to prevent any more mistakes." Naomi wanted to roll her eyes, but deep down she knew that he was right. He patted her on the shoulder. "Relax. It isn't like you're in trouble. On a much nicer note, if you ever want to come back to the IUN, I'm sure no one would argue with you. May not be the same, but I know the guys would be happy to have you back."

Naomi, although she would have loved to go back, felt a lump building in her throat. She missed her friends more than anything, but she couldn't leave behind Count and the others. Especially not any time soon. Not answering right away, she turned to look at her group of friends. First she looked over her IUN friends. She'd known them since college and then on through to the IUN. But when she looked over to Count and Tabloid, and Avril and Bandog...not to mention those she met in the LRSSG...it just reminded her of one thing. She and the rest of the guys from Spare had been thrown out like trash and told to try and survive. They only had each other to rely on and without Tabloid and eventually Count and the others' faith in her, she never would have had a reason to keep fighting.

The life they'd briefly led in Spare was something that only they would ever really understand. The LRSSG helped pull them out of it and to some extent they understood. Boggard, Footpad, Faun, Clown, Knocker...they were still her friends and she was grateful for everything her older mentors had taught her. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she didn't want to leave the LRSSG. Ever. It was nice to see her friends again, but she still had things she needed to do to get by. That Mr. X pilot was still out there, but that was all she had left to take care of before she could really start to move on. And she could cross that bridge when she came to it.

As someone said something funny, Tabloid laughed and Avril gave him a shove. Everyone else joined in on the laughing. Naomi saw Count crack a smile and even from where she was she could see his eyes light up and she couldn't help but smile as well. Looking away from them, she finally gave her old flight leads and answer. "As much as I'd love to fly with you guys again, for more than just one operation, I can't leave those idiots. Even if they probably don't need me, I wouldn't know what to do without them," Naomi said. Sighing, she added, "This is my home now, and I can't see myself leaving any time soon. Also, I'm kinda tired of all these transfers. I'm too comfortable to leave now."

Knocker and Clown shared an amused look before Clown chuckled and winked at her. "Oh, I'm sure you are, _'Trig'_. I'm sure you are."

Naomi raised an eyebrow and scowled at Clown's use of Count's nickname for her. Especially with the tone he'd taken with it. "And just what do you mean by that, old man?" she asked him, taking full advantage of the fact that they were equals now. She couldn't say whatever she wanted to, but it was easier to take part in some playful banter.

Both men laughed. "Nothin', Trigger. I'm just messin' with you," Clown responded through his laughter, clapping her on the back. Once he'd managed to stop laughing, he added in a more serious tone, "That friend of yours is pretty devoted to you, though. You do a good job of takin' care of one another. Hell, I haven't seen someone that hellbent on protecting their leader since Blaze's number two, Nagase." He glanced at Count and nodded towards him, eyes flicking back to Naomi. "You two keep flyin' like that and watchin' each other's backs and you won't need to worry about a thing."

"Speaking of, why don't you go on and join them?" Knocker suggested. Naomi hesitated, but he motioned for her to leave. "Go. Get outta here and go say goodbye to Boggard and the others. They've been looking forward to seeing you for a while now and we've got some final checks to do anyways. Don't waste your time with us."

With a light shove forward, Naomi complied and left them with a grateful smile. She still wasn't ready to say 'bye' to any of them, but she did feel better about it. It wasn't like there was a question about whether she'd see them again, at least not as much of one as there was when she was sent to prison. Besides, they would all be fine. She looked over her shoulder as Clown and Knocker left to go and speak with Kathryn and Grimm, but continued on her way. She reached the others, Count being the first to notice her and nodding in greeting. Naomi smiled. Yup. Just fine.

Of course, she thought that until she remembered when their next operation was. And that they had a briefing to go to in just a few hours. Well, at least they'd be one step closer to where they needed to be. So, it would work out for them after all. She hoped. For the time being, she wanted to enjoy the company she had while it lasted. Just like Knocker and Clown had told her. Then she could worry about the next operation. Besides, nothing could be worse than what they'd just done. It would be easy. Then again, that's what she'd been thinking for some time, now. Shaking her head, she tuned out of her own thoughts to listen to what Boggard was going on about.

What was the worst thing they'd have to do? After the _Alicorn_, Naomi was pretty sure she'd done just about everything.

* * *

Author's Note: _A quick filler chapter I wanted to get out there to hold y'all over until the next mission chapter. I hope those last two scenes weren't too short or rushed or anything, I just needed to establish some things for later and wrap up a few things and admittedly I had a bit of a block on them but I hope the chapter was still good. Next chapter is going to cover Cape Rainy Assault and I'm going to try and have it out as soon as I can._

_Shoutout to TheGamerMarine76 who suggested having Footpad and Boggard sing 'You've Lost That Loving Feeling' to Naomi during the mission as a joke. It was a fun idea but I couldn't fit it into the mission, so I hope the celebration scene made up for it and I hope you didn't mind the creative liberty I took with it. Was the execution cheesy? Yes, incredibly, but who couldn't use some cheese every now and then? ;)_

_See y'all again soon! Hope you have a good rest of your week!_


	36. Special Delivery

Chapter Thirty-Five: Special Delivery

|...|...|...|

**New Arrows Air Base, Eastern Usea.**  
_**September 15th, 2019.**_  
**2300hrs.**

|...|...|...|

Naomi groggily slumped down into her seat in the briefing room, a cup of coffee in her hands and probably looking like she was ready to kill anyone who spoke to her. She was fine with early mornings, but this wasn't morning. She wanted to be back in bed, where she had been about thirty minutes ago. The lights were bright and yet her body knew she should be sleeping. Besides, at least then it gave her mind something other than her friends' departure to think about. The IUN and Specter Squadron were long gone, probably already back at Fort Grays Island by now, and she had to get back to work. So there she was, tired and bored.

Wiseman wasn't there yet. Hawkins hadn't arrived either, and neither was her father. Her father she could excuse, given that he was likely more than happy to keep sleeping. The only person that was there, on time, was Long Caster. He was busy right now dumping sugar into his coffee. Naomi usually put a good amount of sugar in her coffee as well, or at least just enough to get it to her liking, but Long Caster had gone through at least ten sugar packets and it didn't look like he planned on stopping any time soon. That morning, Naomi had wanted her coffee as strong as possible, so she was drinking it black. Count had poured some cream into his, and Lanza was almost rivaling Long Caster with how much sugar he was using. Jaeger had opted for black coffee as well. She slowly realized how much attention she was paying to what they were doing and quickly turned to her own drink. If she was that tired and bored then she really needed to hurry up with her own coffee.

She guessed that they were flying in the same formation as they had when they were taking out the IRBMs in Sierraplata, otherwise Count wouldn't be there. She didn't mind having him still flying as her number two. In fact, she welcomed it. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted. While she had grown accustomed to working with the others, and having Count in the same squadron had helped ease her into the change. But the initial reason for him flying with her no longer really applied. Unless Wiseman thought differently. It didn't matter either way, so long as everything went smoothly and everyone got back okay. Honestly, she doubted anything could possibly be as crazy as their last mission was, so she was fine with whatever lineup Wiseman had for them.

After a while, everyone had taken their seats. Count sat on Naomi's left and Lanza on her right. Jaeger sat beside Lanza. Once Long Caster was finally satisfied with the way his coffee tasted, he stepped up to start up the computer. Everyone sat mostly in silence and drank their coffees while looking expectantly at Long Caster. Once he had the screen and everything ready for the briefing, he was quickly aware of them watching him. "Relax, you guys. Wiseman will be along shortly. He had to stop by Hawkins' office."

"Lemme guess, the base commander is still stuck with paperwork?" Naomi asked after taking a swig of coffee, grimacing slightly at how bitter it was compared to what she was used to. "I mean, we've barely seen him."

"I honestly don't care whether or not he does the briefing. Seriously, if you ask me our base commanders are way too involved. I don't like it," Count said, propping his elbow up on the armrest and leaning his head against his fist. "I say that so long as he isn't hiding anything, like McKinsey and Clemens were, then he can stay in his office. It's not like he's the one laying his life on the line."

Something about the tone that Count used made Naomi think he was a little bitter that Hawkins hadn't been of more use during their hunt for the _Alicorn_. In fact, Hawkins had been pretty absent, even after they found out about Clemens' actions. He wasn't hiding something, but he probably could have actually been on their side a little more. She could understand why Count wouldn't want him around now that things had settled down. Long Caster didn't argue with him, but he didn't agree either. "I'm sure he has his reasons, Count. He's got lots of responsibilities, just like everyone else. You make a good point, though."

No one said anything else on the subject, instead choosing to sit in silence for the remainder of the time while they waited for Wiseman. Just as Naomi finished pouring herself a second cup of coffee and had sat back down, the door opened and Wiseman stepped inside. He was looking rather cheerful considering what time it was, and he greeted them all as such. "Good, you're all here. And awake for the most part," he said to them, noting that Lanza was struggling a bit more than Naomi to stay awake. He sat up once Wiseman entered the room, though. Wiseman looked at the screen, then to the four of them. "Well, what say we jump right into the briefing, huh? The sooner this gets done, the sooner you can all go back to sleep."

They all muttered in agreement, and Jaeger asked, "Are we back on our original course to Farbanti?"

"That's the plan, anyways," Wiseman said, pulling up the screen as usual and marking down the area of operations. "With the loss of one of their Arsenal Birds, then the destruction of their ballistic missile base, and then with the _Alicorn's_ mutiny and subsequent destruction, Erusea is running out of ways to counter our attacks. We're taking full advantage of that, and now is as good a time as any for the Osean Army to bolster their power to eventually help take down the Erusean capital of Farbanti."

As the path they would be taken was shown on screen, Naomi chuckled and crossed her arms. "Well, it looks like our long-range strategy is starting to enter its final phase. What all do we have to do from here?"

"Yeah. After everything we've had to do already, surely there isn't much left," Lanza said, narrowing his eyes on the screen. He leaned back in his seat, still focused on the screen before his eyes flicked to Wiseman. The expression on his face was almost worried, but in a comical way. "Right? Please say I'm right."

Wiseman chuckled as Long Caster zoomed in on an area to the northernmost part of Erusea. "Well, you're not wrong," he said, and Lanza seemed hopeful for a moment. "It's simple, but not very straightforward. Our objective is to attack and capture an Erusean air base in Cape Rainy in Northern Erusea." The operation area was now shown, with a display of the base and the nearby valley. Wiseman continued, the screen now showing the enemy's locations. "Now, it may not look like much, but this important base is at the forefront of our strategy to establish control of Farbanti."

"Seems pretty straightforward to me," Count commented. When Wiseman and Long Caster exchanged a look, Count frowned. "There's more to it than that, isn't there?"

"Afraid so, Count," Long Caster answered with a sympathetic smile.

"Here comes the part where I explain why y'all had to get up so early," Wiseman answered, nodding to Long Caster. The camera zoomed in on the valley that led to the base, and Naomi realized how narrow it actually was once you looked closer. She knew exactly what was coming next, as soon as the digital arrowhead charted the course through the valley. "Under the cover of night, our plan is that Strider Squadron will invade from the valley to the south and mount an air assault on the area."

"We...have to fly...through the valley...in the _dark_?" Naomi asked slowly and through gritted teeth, dreading the entire thing. She looked down at her coffee and grumbled, "I hate this..."

Count nudged her with a smirk. "Oh, c'mon, Trigger. I thought you liked pulling off stupid stunts like this. If you can fly through a marine platform and a tunnel _and_ a submarine, I think you can handle a valley."

"There are a couple of conditions to this," Wiseman interrupted before Naomi could reply. "The enemy's observation field has eyes on the skies above the valley, so your altitude will need to be restricted." The screen zoomed into the valley, showing the estimated altitude limit. "If you go over a certain altitude, the enemy could spot you, ending the mission in failure. Keep that in mind. Additionally, this is partially a joint operation. Basilisk Team, a unit comprised of soldiers from the army and marine corp, will be arriving after the initial attack to secure the base. You may be familiar with one of the ground unit commanders. Major Grimm. He assisted over Anchorhead and he'll be joining Basilisk tonight."

"Alright!" Lanza said with a smile. "Be nice to finally get to meet him in person!"

Wiseman smiled, but he continued with the briefing. "Strider will get through the valley first, and once you arrive you are to take out the enemy's air defense forces as soon as possible and wait for the support squadron. When the air defense forces are neutralized, the helicopter squadron should arrive carrying the ground troops. Once they land, they'll be taking on what soldiers remain at the enemy base and taking them prisoner. The main plan is getting control of the base, which unfortunately means that getting through the valley is only half your job. After all of that is said and done, Cyclops Squadron and a transport plane should be along to help set up home base. We should be along sometime later that morning, provided everything goes according to plan."

"Well, if you ask me, after flying through that valley the rest is gonna be a piece of cake," Naomi said, finishing off her coffee and getting up to get in one last cup before their flight. She stretched as she stood up, fighting off a yawn. "Here I was thinking that nothing would be able to top everything that went on with the _Alicorn_." Count and the others followed her, standing up and briefly glancing at the screen as it now displayed the roster before switching to the LRSSG emblem as usual. Once she had her coffee, she turned to face the others, sighing before putting on a smile. "Well, boys, let's hurry up and get outta here. I wanna go back to bed..."

"We'll see you guys later! Good luck out there!" Wiseman called after them as they exited the room, Long Caster behind them.

They all replied with their own 'goodbyes' before the door shut. Naomi may not have liked how crazy the operation sounded, and she definitely didn't like the idea of flying through a tight valley. In the dark. In a very expensive plane...at low altitudes. But aside from not liking it, she felt pretty good about it. Provided everything ran smoothly, which didn't often happen for them, then they'd have no trouble. They just had to keep their fingers crossed. Count had a point. After what they'd been through in just a few days, this would be easy in comparison.

* * *

**Cape Rainy, Northern Erusea.**  
_**September 16th, 2019.**_  
**0200hrs.**

After a surprisingly short night flight, in which they made sure to avoid contact with any enemies, along with a nerve wracking, nighttime aerial refueling process, Strider Squadron arrived at the entrance to the valley early in the morning. Basilisk Team's helicopters were well on their way, on their radar and trailing a short ways behind them, having met up with them a few minutes before their initial approach. The moon was bright that night, not full like it had been a few days prior, but large enough to provide a decent amount of light. Not that very much of that light made it into the space they had to fly through. A little bit of it bounced off of the surface of the river, at least from what Naomi could see, but not much of it really illuminated the path they'd be taking.

It was fine, though. They had more than enough resources to guide their way. They may not have actual, natural night vision but their equipment did have it, and Naomi was very grateful for whoever designed that. Technology was an amazing thing, until it started thinking for itself and fell into the wrong hands. That was when it worried her, for obvious reasons. Enjoying the last few minutes of silence she would probably be getting for the next hour or so, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes until her thoughts were interrupted by Long Caster.

"Strider 1, you have passed through waypoint one," he informed her, and she groaned to herself as she prepared herself for the unavoidable. "Strider Squadron, your fun is just beginning. No weapons until you reach the enemy base. All aircraft, reduce altitude. We have altitude restrictions from here on out." Long Caster, unlike them, seemed surprisingly well rested. Lucky him. He could probably sleep on his job if he really wanted to. He was awfully quiet on the way over. However, he didn't give her a chance to continue that train of thought before he went on. "Keep altitude below 600 meters, otherwise this entire operation will head south real fast."

"Roger that. Guess we've got enough to deal with tonight, don't need to add anything to the list," Naomi said, leading the way as she began to lower her altitude. She tried to ease up on the throttle, something she wasn't used to doing. In here, she'd need to be very careful with her speed. She couldn't very well just charge right through going full speed or else she'd lose too much control, but if she went too slow then one hard turn could cause her to stall and then she'd slam into whatever object managed to find her first. Either way, she did not like this one bit. "Talk to me, boys. How are you doing back there?"

Lanza was the first to answer her question. "I didn't drink enough coffee for this. I'm worried my nerves are gonna screw with my mind or something, make me mess up."

"I get what you're saying," Count answered in agreement. "Ugh. I wanna go back to bed."

"You three could really benefit from a more optimistic outlook," Jaeger said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It could be much worse, especially after what you've been through these last few days. And on the bright side, this is one step closer to Farbanti. After that, I'm sure Wiseman will give us all a break for a couple of days. If we're lucky, anyways."

Naomi smiled to herself a little but didn't say anything, not that there was much else to add. No one else said anything, either. Preparing herself, she led the way into the valley, quickly checking everyone's position as they began their descent. They broke from their usual formation and flew in the only way they could, single file. Naomi, then Count, then Jaeger, and Lanza took up the rear. The helicopters hung back for the time being. Once they entered the valley, Naomi made sure to keep an eye on her speed and altitude. Her speed wasn't the biggest concern she had, though. She could maintain a steady speed, it was the altitude that worried her the most. _A little over 300 kilometers. Yeah, that oughta do it. Just don't raise your nose and you'll do fine,_ she thought.

Long Caster radioed them again. "Alright, you're all doing good. Just maintain your current course and be careful. Basilisk Team should be following you shortly."

"Strider Squadron, this is Basilisk 1. Long time no see, huh? It's good to be working with you again," the new voice was familiar, belonging to Major Grimm. They moved him fast, if he was taking part in the operation here. Special forces guys really don't mess around. The major continued. "Our current ETA matches yours. We'll catch them off guard, but can we secure the LZ quickly? I don't doubt you, I just could use the reassurance."

"Don't worry, we'll get you down safe, guys," Naomi said, carefully dodging a rock as the valley began to twist, now having to fly in a quick zig-zag motion to avoid the corners. Once they were in a straight away, at least for a few seconds, she relaxed a bit.

Count spoke up next, mostly speaking to Basilisk, "At least, that's our plan anyways. What happens on the ground after that is up to you. Honestly, I'm worried you're short on men."

"There's no need to worry about that," the major answered in a surprisingly light tone. He sighed. "Everyone here's already signed their wills."

"Hey, cut it out! That ain't funny," Count almost snapped at him, obviously not one for dark humor. Naomi wasn't a fan of it either, but whatever kept the guy going.

Major Grimm brushed Count's response off with a dry, tired laugh. "Yeah, sorry about that. I never was good at jokes," he answered. With a short pause, and a comment from somebody else aboard the helicopter with him, he finally said in a much more determined voice, "Okay, we'll follow you in. Good luck."

"Understood. We'll see you soon," Naomi said to him, glancing down to check her radar and noticing that Basilisk had finally started moving. She quickly returned her attention to the valley, finally figuring out a good speed and steady altitude to keep from crashing and to feel comfortable. However, once she finally got into the groove of things, something else caught her attention and she was rudely reminded of why you should never get your hopes too high up. Or start thinking something was easy. "Dammit! Just what we needed...everyone, there's a searchlight up ahead. Two on the rocks, one on a helicopter. Watch out for 'em!"

Long Caster's voice cut in, stating the obvious and warning them, "Stay out of their sight! If they catch you then it's game over."

Naomi swiftly pulled up as much as she could and rolled between them, lowering her altitude and making a high-G turn to get back on course and to get free of the cliff face. From there, she should be fine. There were a couple of bridges set up along the way, likely for a railway. That's what it looked like to her and it didn't seem the safest for driving over. If it wasn't for a train then she couldn't imagine who would want to take a car across it. Too easy to lose control and crash. The same could be said for the plane she was flying, but at least if she had enough preparation then she could get out. Hopefully.

She lowered her altitude even farther to duck between two searchlights, banking right and braking to avoid the third one lined up. Another zig-zag. This was getting ridiculous. Naomi grunted as she made the turn, then another one, and then one more. Another straightaway, however short it was. Finally. She slowed down once more, having added some speed to keep from stalling and to make the turns a bit smoother than they otherwise would have been. Already she was tired of this. "Long Caster, any idea on what our status is? How close to the base are we?"

"You're coming up on waypoint three. The valley's about to get narrower. Be careful," Long Caster told her.

"Oh, wonderful..." Naomi said with a huff, picking up speed and twisting through the next set of searchlights. It was crazy how many lights the Eruseans had set up through this valley, and for what? Even if it was the most likely route someone would take if they were trying to slip in undetected, it still seemed excessive. The simple option, which Osea had obviously not gone with, would be to come in through the river or from the sea. Easy enough to avoid the searchlights in either place. And were they automatic or were the people manning them deaf?

Suddenly, Count broke through the silence with a bored huff. "When can we take on the final mission? I'm starting to get tired of all this," he said and Naomi couldn't help but roll her eyes and crack a smile. She couldn't tell if he was being annoying intentionally or not, but she'd take the good mood over the tension any day.

"This is the last step, Count. We'll take the enemy base and use it as a bridgehead," Long Caster replied. A bit more embarrassed than before, he went on. "I guess we weren't too clear on that in the briefing. Once we take the base, then it's off to the capital."

"So, all of you watch yourselves out there," Jaeger advised, not like they needed the reminder. "We're going to need everyone we can in Farbanti and likely for whatever comes after that. Wouldn't want to lose anyone along the way, right?"

Count scoffed. "Yeesh. Without Wiseman around, everyone wants to play the mother hen, huh? Or give orders out like they're the company commander himself." He paused as their squadron rounded a corner, weaving through a couple more searchlights. Then he suddenly chuckled. "The best thing about Strider Squadron is that our leader at least lets us off the leash once in a while." And in a teasing, playful tone he added, "Even if she never does know when to stop running her mouth."

Naomi let out an indignant laugh. "Don't make me try and pull rank on you again, Count. And you really are one to talk, especially since I don't think you ever stop," she retorted, though she kept her tone light. She'd learned her lesson. Unless she absolutely had to, she wasn't going to try pulling rank on him. She respected him too much for that, and she didn't want to get on his bad side again.

Luckily for her and perhaps for everyone else, Long Caster interrupted them before Count could make a comeback. "Alright, alright. Settle down, you two. You can flirt when you're on the ground, but right now you've got a mission to finish." Both Naomi and Count let out surprised snorts and were confused and taken aback by his comment. Jaeger and Lanza, on the other hand, seemed very amused by it. Long Caster continued. "You've passed waypoint three. You're coming up on the base. Imposing radio silence. To avoid detection, we won't be able to talk again until you're over the base. Continue to keep an eye on your altitude and make sure you're aware of the rest of your surroundings. There are still plenty of dark spots that can sneak up on you. Just keep following the valley and you'll be done in no time."

With that, everyone went silent, and Naomi was left with nothing but her own thoughts. She didn't like not being able to talk to anyone. Radio silence sucked. Maybe it was a good thing that she didn't have much of a chance to focus on that, since the closer they got to the base, the more narrow the valley became. And the more narrow the valley was, the more searchlights seemed to be set up. So many that Naomi's eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the changes in the light. Even if her visor allowed her to see things clearly outside, it didn't change that the light was still bright. She didn't really enjoy being blinded one minute and then nearly crashing the next.

Almost getting caught by the first searchlight, she had to have split second reactions, rolling and turning in between the lights to avoid getting caught. Her wingmen were having the exact same trouble, and she was pretty sure that they were almost spotted as well. Once she was clear from those, she relaxed a little and slowed down. The valley was barely wide enough to fit through, and one wrong move and they'd be gone. She wished now that she hadn't drank so much coffee, otherwise she might have a steadier hand. Or maybe the coffee had nothing to do with it and this was all entirely due to her nerves. As she made a hard and very tight turn, and then another, she had to pick up more speed again and was reminded by the automated voice to lower her altitude.

The valley had a wide area where they turned, and then the path went back to being narrow with search lights placed just about everywhere they could manage. It would have been easier if she could just slip right through them, but they moved in such a way that she had to be careful with the timing of any maneuvers she had to pull. This had to be the last stretch. She picked up speed, banking to the left to avoid the terrain as her altitude warning went off, the annoying automated voice a very unwanted distraction. She managed to slip right between the first two lights, then rolled between the next three, lowering her nose and flying underneath the three after that, then she made what she hoped was one of the last turns and maneuvered carefully between the final searchlights, almost getting caught by them.

She performed another roll, carefully adjusting her speed and making one last turn before several blips appeared on her radar and already began tracking a nearby target. Long Caster's voice came over the silence. "Strider Squadron, you've passed through waypoint four. Radio silence has been lifted! You're almost at the base!" Long Caster informed them.

Naomi let out a sigh of relief once their four fighters were clear of the valley, and she quickly raised her nose and turned to assess their battle field. They didn't have long before the enemy would wake up and start firing back, and it also wouldn't be long before Basilisk Team showed up, so she needed to be quick about this. Naomi was first out of the valley, and Count led the way for the other three. Once her wingmen emerged, they fanned out like a flock of birds finally able to fly outside of their cages. Count chuckled. "We made it! That was quite the roller coaster ride."

"Well, let's get through this. C'mon, guys, it's time for their wakeup call!" Naomi announced, selecting the first target she was going to go through. Time to hand out the tasks of the day. "Count, you and I are going to take out their air defenses. Jaeger, you handle the aircraft before they can take off. Lanza, you take care of those ships and then come and help out over here. Everyone got it?" They all sounded off that they understood. She smiled. "Good. Strider Squadron, commencing attack!"

"Remember: the longer it takes, the worse off we'll be," Long Caster said. "Hurry up and finish them off."

"Righto! Let's give 'em a beating!" Count said as they all dispersed and moved in on their targets.

First order of business were the AA guns and the SAM sites, plus a couple of other vehicles they had laying around. Naomi wanted to get rid of those searchlights, too, but she figured those could wait. What good would being able to see their squadron be if the enemy couldn't do anything to retaliate? Together, she and Count began to pick off what they could. Lanza made quick work of the gunships, quickly joining Jaeger in the main attack on the base. After the first hits on their base, it seemed the Eruseans had woken up and were starting to mount a resistance. The AA guns started to fire back, the searchlights came on, and enemy aircraft were starting to take off.

Naomi was strafed by one of the AA guns, only because one of the searchlights was stubbornly trained on her, allowing them to get a clear shot on her. Cursing under her breath, she pulled a hard turn to both evade the enemy anti-air fire and to line up a shot on the searchlights. "Alright, I'm gonna take out a couple of their searchlights, that way they have to work a bit more if they want to actually hit us," she said to her wingmen. "Count, I need you to cover me. Take out what you can."

Count was already doing just that. "Don't worry, I've got it."

Not really worried too much about them shooting her anyways, she left that to Count and targeted the searchlights closest to the enemy's weapons. She didn't want to take them all out, just on the off chance that they may have to use them later down the line. She had no idea how long the LRSSG would be staying here, even less of an idea of how Erusea would react to losing one of their bases and likely their capital. They might be a prime target before long, and it would be nice if they had something on their side. She took out the ones that were causing the most trouble as Count managed to take out about half of their anti-air weaponry. By the time she was finished, they didn't have much farther to go.

"Shit! We missed a couple...heads up, we've got some aircraft taking off!" Lanza called out with a frustrated growl as a couple of Apache helicopters and MiG fighters took to the skies.

"Well, looks like they finally decided to wake up for real," Long Caster mused, not seeming too concerned by it. Probably because it was an easy enough problem to fix. "Looks like they're pulling out more vehicles, though. Guess they had more up their sleeves than we thought." Naomi tangled with their air support, trying to take out the fighters first and worrying about the helicopters later. Count continued to provide cover and eventually she started to switch between the enemy aircraft and helping Count and the others with the ground targets. After a couple of minutes, Long Caster spoke again, "All SAM sites and AA guns have been destroyed. I'd keep an eye out, though, in case they're hiding more."

"Knowing the Eruseans and their over-the-top defensive strategies as of late, I'm expecting a lot more than this," Jaeger said with a sigh as he joined up with Lanza to provide some assistance with the fighters. Once they got the MiGs' attention, Naomi and Count broke off to go and get the helicopters that had taken off and were already heading to intercept the arriving team. As he left, Jaeger quickly added. "I really am only adding to what Long Caster's been saying. We need to be careful, especially with a high stakes operation coming up after this."

"Don't worry, Jaeger. We know," Naomi replied.

They didn't have a chance to continue on the subject for much longer, as Major Grimm spoke again. "This is Basilisk 1. We've arrived in the AO. Landing now."

"Roger that, Basilisk 1," Naomi replied, assessing the area. There were still some Erusean forces hanging around, already working to pull out any reinforcements that they could, and it looked like they were pretty determined to keep the base. No surprise there. They were just doing exactly what Jaeger and Long Caster predicted they'd do. She sighed and radioed her wingmen. "Well, looks like Long Caster jinxed us. They're going pretty hard now. Let's take them out before they jump on Basilisk."

"Be quick. Gotta deliver on time, or the pizza's free," the major joked again, his tone much lighter than it had been before. Naomi found it funny, privately hoping that they actually brought some pizza with them. She was really hungry, and if her schedule was already going to be thrown off, then having dinner for breakfast at almost three in the morning really couldn't hurt anything.

Unfortunately for the major, Count was still unimpressed. "Your jokes haven't gotten any better."

Basilisk 1 chuckled again. "I really thought that one would do it...ah, well. Long Caster, we're landing now. Doesn't look like there's too much to clean up, but don't let your guards down."

Naomi didn't know if the last part of what the major had said was directed at them or at his own men. Maybe it was both. Shrugging it off, noticing their allies hovering and preparing to land one by one, Naomi focused on wiping out the last of the enemy helicopters before she and Count turned around to take out the new ground targets. They took out the extra SAMs first, knowing that those would give them the most trouble. It looked like they chose to roll out some tanks this time around, which was not surprising but it _was_ frustrating. It wouldn't have been so frustrating if they were all in one place, but they had five of the things and three of them were guarding the main buildings and the control tower and the other two were over by three transport planes they had parked beside the main hangars.

That caught Naomi's attention. There was nothing over there. No movement from any of those hangars. It had all been from the three beside the HQ. The transports weren't taxiing and no one had gone anywhere near them, which is why Naomi hadn't targeted them. There wasn't a point if they were just sitting there, and they could always use the extra aircraft. So why send tanks to guard them, unless there was something on them that the Eruseans didn't want Osea to have. Once the operation was done, Naomi was going to make sure that she brought this up to the others. But that could wait. As suspicious as it was, they still had a job that needed to be done. One problem at a time.

She ended up pairing up with Lanza to wipe out the tanks while Count and Jaeger took out the APCs and remaining AA guns. Naomi decided to switch to pulse lasers to take out the tanks, since the reload time was almost instant compared to missiles. The machine gun worked, too, but against a tank it would take a while. And she really wanted to do as little aiming as possible. It was lazy, and she knew that, but she was tired and wanted this operation finished as quickly as possible. Within a matter of minutes, the enemy ground forces had mostly been wiped out. Everything that they could take out from the air, anyways. Naomi sighed. "Alright, Basilisk. The ball's in your court now."

"Roger that, Strider 1," Major Grimm answered as the last of Basilisk Team's helicopters touched down. She assumed they were hopping out now, guns at the ready, prepared to face whatever Eruseans still felt like fighting. The sound of the base's air raid sirens could be heard in the background, along with distant, distorted shouting from Erusean soldiers as the major radioed his men before they officially started fighting, "Everyone, no matter what happens, trust your allies and keep moving! This base is ours for the taking! Ready? GO!"

The sounds of gunfire drowned out everything else, and all that Strider Squadron could do was fly around and wait for the end result. But just when they thought that everything was going to be going just fine, more hostiles decided to show up. Probably all that was left of their ground forces had been pulled out. Two APCs, a pair of AA guns, and a single AD tank were hardly a proper fighting force, but Erusea was desperate at this point. Before even being told by Long Caster to attack, Naomi and the others eagerly jumped right on them and took them out in about a minute. That should have been the end of it, but then an alert went of and Long Caster announced, "Picking up more enemy fighters. A squadron of Su-35s! They must be reinforcements that were called in. Take them out!"

"Where are they?" Lanza asked, and a quick look around showed no signs of enemy fighters. They were on their radars, though.

They soon realized that they didn't need an answer to his question, as a squadron of four fighters suddenly flew out of the clouds, having used them as cover to help mask their approach. Naomi silently scolded herself for being so stupid and waiting around like that when they could have just flown where the fighters were showing up. _I hate night operations_. She made a hard turn to try and intercept the fighters, the enemy squadron having already opened fire and made an attempt attack. They strafed the ground, but thankfully didn't hit anything. "Strider Squadron, let's go. Whatever it takes, keep them off of Basilisk."

"Shit! You guys see those fighters?!" exclaimed a soldier on the ground.

"Calm down and keep shooting!" another one ordered. "Those two Osean bigshots will take care of them for us!"

Naomi ignored their chatter and went for the first enemy fighter she saw, forcing him to break off from the others. However, he was obviously not keen on letting her shoot him down and made it as difficult as he possibly could for her to get a lock on him. While she was chasing him, a warning went off that let her know that the enemy was tracking her. She didn't have to stop her pursuit and evade, though, since Count quickly came to her aid and wiped out the enemy fighter. "This is Strider 2! Enemy down!" he called out with a laugh. Smugly, he added. "I believe that's another for me. You sure you can keep up Trigger, or are you tired already?"

"Since when were we competing?" Naomi asked him. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled a high-G turn to cut off the enemy fighter's attempt to get out from in front of her. She gritted her teeth, but she managed to get herself a clear shot. Once she had a lock, she fired, and the enemy was gone. Once she looked around, she saw that Jaeger and Lanza had handled the last two. It wasn't over yet, since more blips were showing up on radar. Of course that wasn't all that they called in. Then it would have been too easy.

Long Caster announced the arrival of more hostiles, just as expected. "Two groups of enemies approaching. AH-64s, approaching from the south through the valley, and the others from the southwest." The group from the valley had already emerged and launched an attack on Basilisk's helicopters, firing a missile at one of them and blowing it up. Presumably, everyone was off of it and that only served to make a statement, but it wouldn't be long before they tried to hit the others. And if anyone on the ground got caught by the fire from the explosion itself or from some flying debris then it would be all over. Long Caster made sure they understood this. "Strider Squadron, get some goddamn support there now!"

Erusea had sent quite a few helicopters their way. Eight with one group and five from the other, all of them planning on making sure that Osea's mission failed. Desperation. That's all it was. As the flames from the destroyed allied helicopter began to die down, radio chatter picked up on the ground. "Dammit! This is 2-2! We're stuck. If we move then we're dead...we won't be able to capture the base at this rate!" one of the leaders shouted and Naomi was trying to wipe out the closest group first, meaning Basilisk was starting to get swarmed. The others began to fan out to take them down, but the helicopters managed to evade a couple of missiles before finally getting taken out.

"Keep your heads down!" another man replied gruffly. "Three Strikes and her squadron will take care of the enemy!"

"Shit! Hang on, guys!" Naomi called out to them, evading a missile from one of the enemy Apaches. The group nearest to Basilisk, the larger of the two, was resorting to machine gun fire to try and hit something more than a helicopter. Reassessing the situation, she counted up the remaining enemies. The helicopters really weren't much of a match for their fighters and there weren't many left. Only two left from the group of five and six from the group of eight, though they were very, very determined and resilient. And surprisingly agile for something that looked so...clunky. That was what Naomi always thought of helicopters, even if they weren't like that. Planes, on the other hand? Fighters were streamlined, built for speed and precision. Helicopters always struck her as being sturdier but not something she wanted to fly. The lack of an ejection seat was an especially big turn off. Still, these Erusean pilots seemed to know what to do to get the result they wanted. They definitely were not bad pilots.

Major Grimm's voice came over the radio next, the sound of gunfire causing some interference. "That's it! If we take out those two, we can force our way inside the facility...problem is, we've got those stupid helicopters giving us a hard time." He paused, then he spoke again, directly addressing Naomi this time. "Captain Foulke? Any chance you could speed this along? Not complaining, I'd just really like to get something out of the night's delivery. Otherwise all that hard work was for nothing. Not to mention, we'll be all out of pizza."

"Sorry, Major. I'm on it now," Naomi replied, turning to take out the larger group instead. "Strider, new plan. Count, you're with me. We take on those helicopters together. Lanza, Jaeger, you two cover us and make sure that they don't have any more surprises waiting for us. Everyone got it?"

"Righto, Trigger," Count said quickly. "Let's go lend pizza guy a hand."

The four of them split off in two, with Count and Naomi heading towards the enemy as fast as they could. They started attacking as soon as they were in range, each taking out one in their first pass. "Be careful, you two. The enemy's tracking you on radar," Long Caster warned them right as the warning inside of their own cockpits went off. Lanza and Jaeger took out the last of the northwest group and then made sure to jump on the extra ground targets that Erusea somehow kept pulling out of nowhere. They must have been hiding more than Naomi thought. And a lot more than it looked like this base could store. She figured that going through all those extra hangars and the warehouses was going to be a priority.

As she and Count circled back around for their second and hopefully last run, Naomi switched her weapons. She realized how much of the night had been back and forth between missiles and lasers and how she'd barely even made a dent in her machine gun ammo. Count was the first to finish off his remaining two from the group, using a missile each on them and skillfully switching from one target to the other to wipe them out almost simultaneously. His plane was loaded with SASMs as a special weapon, which Naomi hadn't even noticed him use. The others were carrying the same thing, but they hadn't felt the need to use them apparently. Or she just didn't notice it.

Naomi slowed her own speed to target hers, wiping the closest one out with her machine gun just to give the gun a little love. She felt weird thinking that and feeling bad for not using it, but she chalked it up to exhaustion doing most of the talking. From there she finished off the last one with the pulse lasers, since they were better at a longer range. "Long Caster, this is Strider 1," she said as cheerfully as she could, taking a look around the area. It was clear of hostiles. Naomi let out a relieved sigh. "We've achieved air superiority."

"Well, that takes of that," Lanza chuckled as he and Jaeger regrouped with Naomi and Count. "Nice work."

"Good job, Strider Squadron. That air support was right on the money. There don't appear to be any more hostiles in the area, and we can't see any on the way," Long Caster reported quickly. "Basilisk Team, you shouldn't have to watch your backs anymore."

"Great! I get to finally send my boys in to ring the doorbell!" Major Grimm chirped. In a more serious and determined tone he began to shout more orders out to his men, "Alright, let's keep pushing the enemy on their heels. There's still quite a few enemies holed up in there. However, we can't afford to wait any longer. Trust your buddy, trust your instincts, and no matter what happens we keep going. Got it?" There came a collective shout of 'yes sir!' in the background. "Good. We start running on the count of three!"

The countdown was rather slow, but once it was over another leader's voice shouted the order to move forward. "Begin the assault! If anyone resists, kill them!" he practically snarled, and Naomi remembered that they'd be up close with their enemies. They'd see the faces of the enemy before they killed them. If it came to that. That had to leave some scars. She shuddered a bit, and continued with their 'patrol' around the base, since they had nothing else to do but fly around and wait. The others followed her movements as they listened to the chaos going down on the ground.

First, more gunfire and explosions sounded on the ground again. It reminded her of the botched operation at the space elevator when Harling was killed and Sea Goblin's ultimate demise that day as well. The sound and shouting, anyways. Thankfully it seemed that Operation Werewolf was actually going to turn out to be a success. The gunfire continued for a bit, then there was the rapid fire communication between the men on the ground. "Contact, two o' clock! Go! Go! Fire!"

A pause and more gunfire, then the another guy growled, "Tear down that barricade!"

From there the small explosions had stopped and there was nothing but the sounds of people shooting back and forth. A faint clanking sound, like a bullet ricocheting off of something close to the radio as the frenzied communications continued. Now it was coming in short bursts. A bit of shooting here, then a pause, then it picked back up. About thirty seconds the first time and then it started getting shorter and shorter. At last, there was one very quick burst of rapid gunfire and then complete silence. Naomi and the rest of Strider Squadron waited a good minute before they said anything. At last, Jaeger carefully spoke up. "So...how did it go?"

Naomi bit her lip as they waited for an answer from anyone. After what felt like forever, Major Grimm finally responded with a sigh, but he sounded very proud nonetheless. "This is Basilisk 1! The base is ours! We have control of all major functions."

"Glad the pizza was on time," Count said in amusement, likely through a smirk. Naomi managed a tired smile at the comment.

Long Caster let out a relieved huff. "Phew. Roger that, Basilisk 1. That's the best news I've heard all night," he said. "Mission accomplished."

"Sounds like all of your men made it through safely," Naomi said to the major, knowing that things were a little tight for a couple of minutes. And it was partly her fault.

"Looks like they can shred those wills, huh?" Count asked him, referencing the dark joke from the start of the mission.

Major Grimm let out an almost overly dramatic sigh. "I'm already getting an earful from the men over the needless paperwork."

Count let out a tired but genuine laugh. "Hahaha! No joke..."

Everyone joined in on the laughing, but it quickly died down. Major Grimm was the first one to recover from it and changed the subject back around, sounding like he was talking through a smile as his chuckling died off. "Okay, go ahead and begin your approach. We'll do the flight control."

"Roger that," Naomi said as she banked to circle back around to the runway. "Come on, guys. Time to call it a night."

* * *

**0330hrs.**

Naomi was the last to make her approach, finding herself caught in the light rainstorm that had rolled in. The name Cape Rainy really wasn't a misnomer. She watched the water roll along her canopy, actually finding it pretty relaxing, until the soldier put in charge of guiding them down pulled her back into focus. "Strider 1, this is Basilisk. The runway is clear, you have permission to land," he informed her, very cheerful about the whole thing. "The party is on as soon as you get here."

"Roger that, Basilisk. Beginning landing now," Naomi replied with a small laugh, banking to line herself up for her approach. Most of it was instinct, but it was helpful to have him guide her through the motions since she didn't have the best visibility. First thing she noticed as she lowered her altitude, though, was the small town that she didn't catch on the map. It didn't look to be a part of the base, but it did look as though everyone had been woken up by the commotion. She had no difficulty seeing the buildings clearly through the dark and the rain, that was for sure. Hopefully somebody would be able to go and set their minds at ease. They weren't a part of this fighting after all, just civilians living nearby.

"Reduce your speed," the control tower guy advised and she followed his instructions. Her nose tilted upward slightly so her back wheels would hit the ground first. She could just barely make out the shapes of the allied helicopters, either dropping down supplies or preparing to land themselves. "You're past the guidance limit, make a visual landing from here." She did exactly that, and in a matter of seconds she touched down, feeling a slight shockwave from the subtle impact. From there she continued reducing her speed until her plane finally came to a halt a bit farther along the runway, closer to where Count and the rest of her squadron had stopped. The soldier chuckled. "Right on the money, Strider 1," he said. Likely to his comrades, he added, "Strider 1 has landed. Let's go and greet her!"

After going over some checks to make sure everything was okay to leave, she opened the cockpit and removed her helmet and the rest of her flight gear. There wasn't anywhere to put it for the time being, so she just dropped it onto her ejection seat and carefully climbed out as the crew helping on the ground provided her with a ladder. The rain definitely wasn't severe, just a little heavier than a decent drizzle. One thing she noticed right away was how much colder it was here than back at New Arrows. The rain did nothing to help, hitting her face at the same time as a gust of wind and causing her to shiver from the unexpected chill. Not how she wanted to end her evening, but the change could be a good thing.

Taking a look around, she noticed some light from an extremely bright flashlight and spotted the rest of her squadron and Long Caster standing around with a couple of other men. Nearby, armed Osean soldiers were escorting several now captured Erusean soldiers. They walked very slowly, a couple of them limping but not too severely. She guessed some injuries on both sides were to be expected. Ignoring that and the very, very cold rain, she thanked the men that helped her out and made her way over to where the others were standing, off to the side of Count's plane. She could hear faint conversations coming from just about everywhere, and there was a lot of activity. Way too much for this early in the morning.

When she reached them, the conversation died off and they all smiled and greeted her in different ways. She stopped beside Count and shuffled near him so that she was pressed up against his arm, still shivering but at least getting some warmth from him. To her surprise, he didn't protest it or anything, so she went ahead and tried to find a way to start a conversation up with everyone. Once she'd stopped shivering, she smiled and straightened up a bit, looking the man that was holding the flashlight up and down. In the light provided, she could see that he had reddish-brown hair but she couldn't make out what his eye color was. The patch on his chest read 'Grimm'. No doubt about it, this was him. He had a much broader build than his brother and some noticeable differences, but they both had a very soft and warm smile. "You must be Major Grimm. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Please, the pleasure is all mine, ma'am. I've heard a lot about you and your squadron. I hear you and I have a couple of mutual friends," the major said with a wider smile and Naomi nodded. Major Grimm continued. "Well, that aside, I'm glad this operation is over and I'm glad you're all here because I am starving and there's a whole box of extra cheese pizza in there with my name on it." He chuckled. "Unfortunately, that won't stop a group of hungry marines and army guys from digging into it. So, how about we head to the mess hall before it's all gone, huh?"

"Wait, you guys weren't just pretending about the pizza?" Count asked him, raising an eyebrow.

Major Grimm just shook his head with a laugh and motioned for them to follow. Long Caster was the first to follow, with Lanza right behind him, eagerly asking the major, "Hey, you got any cola to go with it?"

"What's a pizza party without some soda?" the major asked with a playful smile. "Can't promise it didn't get shaken up in that landing, but we do have it."

"Aww, hell yeah!" Lanza cheered. "I love you guys!"

As Jaeger, Naomi, and Count began to file out and follow the others towards the mess hall, she heard one of the Osean marines say to the Erusean soldiers, "All prisoners of war will be treated in accordance to international law. We even brought pizza, if you're hungry." The three of them looked over their shoulder then at each other, laughing the comment off as they followed their friends. The evening was certainly a strange one, but things seemed to turn out alright regardless of that. Now it was time for some pizza and then a nice, long nap.

* * *

Author's Note: _Sorry about the wait for this. I wanted it to be out last week but then writer's block happened. But I'm back now and hopefully things will be easier because I have loads planned starting from the next few chapters and moving onward._

_No idea when the next update will be out, but it shouldn't be too long this time and I say that in full confidence because I've got a lot of free time on my hands now (I've actually been lucky enough to have had to make very few adjustments to daily life). That being said, I really hope everyone's doing alright, keeping safe, and staying calm!_

_Thirdly, to the guest reviewer Riptide who left a very lovely review a few days back, I just want to let you know that your review made my day and I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so far! I loved hearing your feedback and I hope you stick around and enjoy what's to come!_

_Oh, and lastly, to everyone, if there happen to be any other RWBY fans out there then I'm happy to announce that I posted the start to a new fanfic, CAMO! I recently finished the series and I had to get the prologue to the story off my chest, which is another reason why this chapter took a bit longer. That being said, the story is set several years before the main series and will follow a team made entirely of OCs as they make their way through life at Atlas. Just the prologue is up for now, but I'm working out some ideas for continuing into the first chapter. And to anyone who is not a RWBY fan and worried that I'll abandon this story, don't worry. Three Strikes is still taking top priority!_

_Again, I hope everyone is doing alright and staying safe and healthy! I also hope you enjoy the chapter!_


	37. Shell Shocked

Chapter Thirty-Six: Shell Shocked

|...|...|...|

**Cape Rainy Air Base, Erusea.**  
_**September 16th, 2019.**_  
**0700hrs.**

|...|...|...|

The early morning celebration only lasted a little over an hour before Strider Squadron had made the decision to go to turn in. With not much time to really clean up and settle in after their raid, some of the soldiers had been tasked with clearing out the barracks or as many as they could and stripping the beds. Everyone was provided with a sleeping bag to use instead, and everyone was grouped together to save as much space and work for later. If the beds were full, you slept on the floor. Naomi, being among the higher ranking officers residing at the base for the time and being the only woman there, had been offered a room of her own but she turned it down to save space.

So, all of Strider slept in the same room. Jaeger took the bottom bunk, Lanza took the couch in the room, and despite Count's arguing Naomi had taken the floor and given him the top bunk. Her squadron and their comfort came first, and since she was the one in charge then she simply ordered Count to take the bed. Last thing she wanted was him sleeping on the floor and then complaining non-stop about being uncomfortable for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, they didn't get to sleep in for very long. The internal alarm clock that they all seemed to share from being in the military woke them up at six in the morning after what could only be considered a nap. They didn't really need much more than that. Naomi had functioned on less and the others had as well.

After they were up, they headed straight to the mess hall to find that Long Caster and Major Grimm were already up. Outside, soldiers were taking shifts between eating breakfast and moving on to working, and sleeping. The Erusean soldiers, now officially POWs, were being prepared for an Osean transport to move them to a camp where they'd probably stay and be interrogated until the war's end. Naomi also thought she heard a couple of the marines mention shipping them off to the penal base set up in Tyler Island to work alongside Osean prisoners, which wasn't a very comforting thing for anyone to hear. Prisoners or not, she doubted that they'd allow Eruseans to actively work with them. It was really nothing more than a rumor, and one that she didn't concern herself with for very long.

As they entered the mess hall, Long Caster and the major greeted them with friendly smiles. "Hey, you're finally up!" Long Caster said, gesturing with his cup of coffee. Beside him sat a plate of reheated pizza, several slices, which he seemed to be working his way through. He pointed them towards the closed off kitchen area. "Plenty of pizza and drinks left over from last night if you're in the mood for breakfast. We made some fresh coffee, too. You'll have to drink it black, though. Probably some other things in there, too, if you want to look through all the freezers in there."

"Well, that sounds good to me. Think I might just take advantage of that," Jaeger said with a sigh. He looked to the rest of them as he headed towards the kitchen, pausing to ask them, "Anybody want anything while I'm in there? Food, coffee?" When everyone promptly answered 'yes' at the same time, Jaeger chuckled and started walking again. "Alright, alright. I'll see what I can find while I'm back there. You three can just wait here, if you want."

Lanza broke into a jog to catch up with him once he was about halfway, calling out, "Hey, wait up! I can give you a hand!"

As the two of them disappeared into the kitchen, Naomi and Count decided to take a seat at the nearby tables. Since nobody else was in there but their rather small group, Naomi chose to take a seat atop one of the tables, crossing her legs underneath her so she was in a more comfortable position. Count rolled his eyes at her choice in seating and sat down in a chair that was right beside the one she'd be sitting in. He turned it so that they both were facing Long Caster and Major Grimm and leaned back with a sigh. "Ugh, this has been one hell of a morning," he groaned, briefly leaning his head back to rest it on the table before looking out the window. "At least we have a nice view to look at while the sun rises, right?"

"Yeah. They've got a real nice setup going on here," Naomi said, taking a look around the room. Much like the mess hall at New Arrows, there was plenty of natural light courtesy of an entire wall lined with windows. From where the windows were facing, there was a very distant view of the coast that Naomi could just barely make out through the trees. The ceiling in the mess hall was raised up which allowed for the windows to be higher, and it created a bit of an echo. There was an Erusean flag hung over the door to the mess hall entrance, which would likely get removed before the day's end, and one decently sized TV that was hung on the only other available wall. It was turned off and likely wouldn't be working any time soon. Naomi chuckled, turning buck to her companions. "Guess they were pretty comfy here. For a while, anyways."

"Well, this is all ours, now. For the time being, anyways," Major Grimm said with a smile. "I hear the LRSSG and the IUN are planning to team up again to take over Farbanti, which means that you'll probably be heading to another base pretty soon after." Naomi and Count looked at each other, likely sharing the same thought. More moving. And they probably wouldn't have a chance to settle in, either. The major picked up on the sudden shift in the mood when Long Caster became suddenly subdued as well. He quickly tried to fix his mistake. "No need to look so down, though. Osea is planning on holding on to Cape Rainy, and once we get to Farbanti, well...we'll be that much closer to ending the war. We'll be back to normal lives and schedules in no time."

Long Caster perked up and nodded in agreement. "That _is_ true! Not only that, but capturing this base means that Osea can start moving more troops in to take more control and maybe even free up some of the towns that have been occupied by Erusean forces. Pretty soon, Erusea might be overpowered. It's going to take one hell of a move to pull them out of this once we get to Farbanti..." He suddenly seemed embarrassed as he realized what he was saying. He chuckled. "We shouldn't get too cocky, though. But, speaking of moving troops in, Wiseman and the others should be here later today. Probably within the next few hours."

"Just great..." Count grumbled, obviously not too thrilled about Wiseman coming back, not that Naomi really expected him to be. He groaned. "Really not looking forward to being back on the guy's leash."

Long Caster and Naomi didn't get an opportunity to respond, as Jaeger and Lanza had emerged from the kitchen shortly before Count finished talking, Lanza struggling to hold three plastic cups while Jaeger walked beside him with his own cup and a box of leftover pizza. When they reached the table, Lanza's expression turned to one of relief and he set the cups down on the empty table beside the one Count and Naomi were sitting at. Jaeger set a cup down as well, along with the box of pizza. "This was the only one left and there's not much, so get what you can," he said, opening it and sliding it towards Count.

Naomi reached over Count, much to his annoyance as he had to lean back, and grabbed a slice before settling back into her seat. He furrowed his brow, making a face of confusion and perhaps amazement. "You had like...two slices before we went to bed. How are you still hungry?" he asked her. She didn't answer him, just shrugged in response so she didn't have to talk with her mouth full. Count's expression changed to an amused one and he shook his head, eyes lighting up. He slowly looked away from her and nodded to Long Caster. "I think Trigger's planning on stealing your reputation, Long Caster."

Like Naomi, Long Caster didn't answer as he had already finished the plate of pizza he had when they walked in and was reaching for another couple of slices. Lanza laughed as he passed Naomi and Count their coffees, grinning as he said, "Yeah, I seriously doubt anybody's ever going to outdo Long Caster when it comes to eating. No offense, Trigger, but you should probably just stick to flying."

Major Grimm smiled as well, nodding in agreement. "I'll agree with him there. I spoke with my brother after he got back to Fort Grays the other day, and I hear that he and Kat had a hard time keeping up with you. Having seen those two fly in battle before, I'll tell you that that's something right there. You and your squadron keep that up and you'll be real heroes once this all is over," he said, although he wasn't telling them anything that they hadn't already heard from other people. Naomi wasn't so sure that they wouldn't just fade into irrelevance once the war was over, though. That's what happened to everyone before them, and there was no way that the same wouldn't eventually happen to them.

The major didn't give her very long to think about it, taking a quick sip from his coffee cup before a realization hit him. "That reminds me, we brought someone along with us. Someone else that you and I are both familiar with."

As if on cue, someone knocked on the open mess hall door and everyone turned to see who it was. Peering in from outside was a rather nervous looking man with a camera, surprised by everyone staring at him. Naomi recognized him, though, even if it had been months since she'd seen him. And she'd seen so little of him to begin with. But even if he had changed in that time, the camera that hung from his neck and the curious look in his eyes gave him away. A grin spread across her face as she called out to him. "Genette!"

Her four friends from the LRSSG turned to look at her, obviously stunned by that. Jaeger was the first to speak up after a couple of seconds. "You know him?" he asked her, as if the fact that she knew his name didn't give that away.

"You've sure got a lot of friends..." Count said, sending a suspicious and almost annoyed look Genette's way as the journalist ventured further inside the mess hall, making his way over to them. Count looked away from him and up at Naomi. Irritably, but trying to brush it off and seem like his normal, aloof self, he asked her, "So, how do you know _this_ guy?"

Naomi was about to answer, but she was struggling to find the words. Genette had reached them at this point, though, and kindly offered up an explanation. "I'm Albert Genette," he introduced himself, holding out his hand for each of them to shake. He went on after they all cautiously accepted the greeting. "I'm a freelance journalist, specializing in military affairs. I'm sure you're probably aware of the...incident that happened at the Lighthouse that the captain was involved with. I've got some friends among different news outlets and I helped keep the press off her back and out of the way during her court martial, and part of the reason she was sent to a penal unit instead of...worse alternatives, though I'm not sure you could really thank me for that."

Although he was hesitant and seemed to feel some sort of guilt for only being able to secure her a spot at the 444th, Naomi was actually a tad grateful. It kept her from completely wasting away in a regular prison, and without it she'd have never met Count and Tabloid or anybody from Spare, nor would she have gotten any recognition from the LRSSG. She had hated the experience, but that wasn't to say something good hadn't come out of it in the end. She gave Genette a small reassuring smile, and noticed that Count now seemed to have a different look on his face. He wasn't smiling like Naomi was, but he didn't seem bothered by Genette now.

Before anyone could say anything else, Jaeger cut in. "Hold on...are you telling me that they let a civilian tag along on a special forces operation?" he asked slowly, obviously appalled by the idea but trying to keep a level tone. Naomi hadn't thought of it until he said something, but the rest of them seemed to slowly come to the realization as well. It wasn't a very responsible decision on Major Grimm's part, even if the two did seem to go back about as far as the major's brother and Genette went. Jaeger and Long Caster both gave Major Grimm a pointed look, however, as Jaeger voiced his own concerns in a stern manner, "Don't you think that's a little risky, Major?"

"Normally, I wouldn't have agreed to it, but Genette's been involved in his fair share of sticky situations," the major shrugged, an understanding look on his face. He knew why they were concerned, even if he didn't share their concerns. "He's been through a lot more than you might think. The guy's pretty tough and he knows how to handle himself, keep his head down, and stay out of harm's way. He's got experience. For once, I wasn't concerned with tag-along. And trust me, I've had more than one civilian I've had to worry about before, even outside of wartime." He grunted softly as he adjusted his sitting position, cracking a smile as he said, "Ask anyone. I haven't lost a guy, yet, and I don't plan to."

"You make a good point, but things can change in an instant in a war," Jaeger pointed out, and Naomi could tell that he wasn't trying to start an argument. Just make a point. He finally leaned back in his own seat. "It's better to play it safe, rather than pay for it later on."

Genette let out an awkward chuckle. "I appreciate the concern, but this isn't my first rodeo. I may not have done any actual fighting, but I've been through dogfights and naval battles and bombings and I've always come out unscathed. Luck's just always been on my side, so I've never seen any reason to worry too much," he said. There was sort of an added heaviness to his voice that Naomi didn't notice until he got to the last part of what he was saying. It seemed to her like he wasn't telling the whole truth, but there always seemed to be more to what Kathryn, Clown, and Hans had said. She was getting real tired of everyone around her always holding back parts of their stories, but she was learning to live with it. It was probably a story for another day, anyways.

"Well, I'll bet there's a real good reason you came all the way out here," Lanza said with a grin, nodding to Naomi. She blinked, but wasn't quite sure what he was getting at. The others seemed to know, though.

When Naomi looked to Genette, he smiled and explained himself. "Well, I stayed at Fort Grays for a while, but they were sent on lower scale missions, usually just providing minor air support once in a while. See, the IUN is using some of their forces to try and punch their way through to the space elevator, but as you can guess...that's not really working. But after a while, they were held back more and more frequently because all of the larger operations were being handled by none other than the Long Range Strategic Strike Group. When I heard about your squadrons' efforts, specifically that of Three Strikes, I knew I had to try and get a story. So, Major Grimm's brother set me up."

"You came all this way, volunteered to go on several dangerous operations, all because you wanted a story?" Count asked, raising an eyebrow. He seemed mildly impressed, though Naomi knew it took a bit more than that to earn his full respect. She wasn't even sure she had it yet. Her wingman chuckled. "That's a pretty brain-dead thing to do, don't you think? Besides, what makes you so sure we'd even give you one to begin with?"

Genette blinked, looking Count over. His eyes flicked to the patch on Count's flight suit that had his name and rank written on it, then he looked back up. Perhaps a little nervous and unsure, still, Genette asked, "Er...Lieutenant O'Connor...you're the one they call 'Count', right?" Count nodded in reply, frowning slightly. Genette looked very happy to have gotten it right and went on with a smile. "Well, I've always been intrigued by the air force and I've found that our country's pilots very often have the best stories to tell. When I heard of Cyclops and Strider Squadron's actions from other troops, especially after the loss of the first Arsenal Bird, and then saw you guys in action over Anchorhead, I knew for sure that it was worth the risk. I want to interview everyone, though I know I'll have to wait for the rest of your unit. At the very least, I'd like some photos."

They all looked to Naomi, who in turn looked to Long Caster. Without Wiseman there, they were the ones in charge and the decision making was up to them. Long Caster shrugged and gave her a look that told her it was her call. She looked to Genette, knowing he came all that way and she'd hate for his efforts to be in vain. She couldn't very well make a decision like this without Wiseman, even if she knew that due to the nature of their missions and for their safety the location and dates of their operations wouldn't be shared. Naomi quickly decided to compromise. "How about we wait for our company commander to get here and he can make the decision?"

He considered it, then nodded with an understanding smile on his face. "Well...I waited this long, I suppose an extra hour or so won't hurt anything."

Naomi returned the smile, then she added to them all, "And I'm pretty sure that we aren't the only ones with a couple of interesting stories. So, in the meantime, how about we catch up?"

* * *

**1200hrs.**

It was much later that morning when the rest of the LRSSG finally arrived, Naomi's father among them. Seven F-15s and two transports arrived at Cape Rainy, everyone quickly getting into gear for work that day. One transport carried everyone's personal effects, because although they wouldn't be staying at Cape Rainy for very long they would be moving to a different air base after they finished taking the capital. Chances were they would be staying there until they got further orders, which meant everything had to be moved. However, it wasn't just their own belongings that had been dragged all the way from New Arrows. The transports also carried supplies, food and equipment, that they would need and that the soldiers that would be staying at Cape Rainy would be needing.

Arrangements had been made for everyone by noon that day, even the POWs would be leaving to a new base before long. Wiseman, Hawkins (who came aboard the transport along with some other New Arrows base personnel), Major Grimm, Long Caster, and Genette had all vanished inside HQ shortly after their arrival to discuss more formal business. Genette had only gone along to speak with Wiseman and Hawkins about publishing an article on the LRSSG. While they had done that, everyone else worked to unpack and get everything settled in, helping the ground troops move supplies and damage from the night's attack. Overall, it wasn't a hectic morning.

Once they were done with that, a young lieutenant had called all the pilots and Avril and Bandog into HQ, stating that they were ready for the debriefing. Without any argument whatsoever, happy to have an excuse to get inside and out of the cold. Naomi had hoped the temperatures would rise once daylight came and the rain had stopped, but the weather had other plans. At least it actually felt like fall compared to the still comfortable climate on the far eastern side of the continent. She didn't mind the change, she just wished it had been more gradual. Hell, Naomi would have happily taken the heat from Zapland if it meant the change would be easier to adjust to.

After a short walk, they made it to Cape Rainy's HQ, filing inside the briefing room. It was smaller compared to New Arrows, but the same bright lights and giant touch screen right as you came in. There was also a window that looked out at the runway. Erusea had a lot of state-of-the-art equipment, much like Osea had at their bases, but Long Caster and Major Grimm were still working on connecting Osea's computers to the rest of Erusea's systems. Luckily for them, there was a whiteboard on the wall opposite of the window that Wiseman was writing things on. It probably wouldn't be their only source of information and explanation for a while, but knowing how fond Long Caster was of better technology, it was unlikely it would be that way for long.

Wiseman and Hawkins were discussing something as everyone entered the room, stopping and turning to look at them as they noticed them. Wiseman gave a friendly smile in greeting, as usual, and everyone returned it. Except for Count. As everyone gathered around, taking seats at the plastic tables that had been set up for seating, they had to turn to look at their commanders and the whiteboard. Once they had all settled down, Wiseman spoke up. "Great, you're all here! I hope Strider enjoyed their night flight. How was it?"

Lanza leaned back in his seat, glancing at Skald. "Any of you ever see the movie _Stealth_?" Skald, Wiseman, and a few others nodded in reply. Lanza shrugged, as if the crazy, nerve wracking flight through a valley, in the dark, could just be brushed off. "It was like that, except nothing bad happened and we weren't trying to kill each other."

"Well, it was an idea that was pretty far out there, but I'm glad the four of you managed to pull it off," Wiseman said with a light chuckle. "I hope you save some of that drive for Farbanti. We're gonna need it."

Hawkins stepped in to officially get the debrief started. "Yes, Major Wiseman is right. Excellent work on the night raid, all of you. Unfortunately, this is just one last step. The real work has only just begun." He nodded towards the window, where troops were outside working still. "Our naval forces are arriving from the Osean mainland, mostly submarines and a few cruisers. Many of them will be taking part in the mission to capture Farbanti and they'll be ensuring that this base remains Osea's for the remainder of the war as well. This may not have been a very exciting operation, but it was an important one, as this base will serve as a frontline platform for our mission at Farbanti. We're almost at the end of this operation, and we'll be getting our final orders within the next few days. I'd advise you rest up while you can."

"I don't know about the rest of you, but that's exactly what I was planning on doing," Jaeger said with a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. "In fact, I was even thinking of taking a nap after lunch. I'm getting a bit old for crazy nights like that."

"Really, old man? Please, I thought we all agreed that was practically nothing compared to our last mission," Count said in a teasing manner, laughing slightly. He looked up at Wiseman. "Can we get out of here, now, Wiseman? I haven't eaten since like...three this morning."

"There's just one other thing to go over, and then you're all free to go, Count," Wiseman said with a look of understanding on his face. "We have a specific set of orders laid out by the guys back in Oured, but we need to start making preparations once we take Farbanti. I'm sure some of you might know the situation at Tyler Island. Officially, as of this moment, there's a cease fire at the island but from the way things are going, it isn't going to last much longer. Now, Osea more or less converted our base on the island into a penal unit, though they're hoping to change that soon enough as they move regular forces in. That being said, it's as close to the space elevator as Osea has been able to get since the IUN's operations there, which is why Erusea is starting to push back harder than ever."

"What do we have to do with that?" Tabloid asked suddenly. "Last we heard, the situation on the island is basically a silly game of tug of war. Why should the LRSSG waste our time with it?"

"They're planning to ship their remaining prisoners back to Osea and that means they're going to lose a lot of personnel," Wiseman quickly replied. "That's for the better, if you ask me, but they've been toying with the idea of sending some of the IUN squadrons down there to fully take back the island. We have an operation taking place at the same time as our attack on Farbanti, to take out Erusea's communications satellites and hopefully give us the upper hand mid-battle. At the same time, our forces going to make a push to drive out Erusea's forces on Tyler Island. Once we finish at Farbanti, we might end up relocating to Tyler Island. Hopefully we'll be able to destroy that second Arsenal Bird."

"Isn't the operation at Farbanti supposed to end the war?" To Naomi's surprise, it was her father that spoke up, a look of concern in his eyes. Everyone looked to him, and he continued without hesitation. "If their capital falls and their communications are cut off, then they have no reason to keep fighting. Even if they were foolish enough to send the last Arsenal Bird directly into Osea's frontline, they'll have still lost too much. It seems like an unnecessary step, relocating forces and all that, doesn't it?"

"We're just trying to take some preventative measures," Hawkins said, a little nervously, almost as though he didn't quite agree with the idea but had no choice in it. "We aren't saying that we'll have to take on the Arsenal Bird, we just want to take back Tyler Island so Erusea doesn't get cocky. There is a mass driver on their side of the island, and if they continue to hold that and get shipments then the Arsenal Bird will likely have enough armaments to last them for a while. With that, their drones, and that Mr. X and his squadron that you've run into, they might be able to win even without their capital and communications."

"Okay...so, if they're moving the IUN there then why are you telling us this?" Naomi asked suspiciously, furrowing her brow. "This is really starting to feel like more of a briefing than a _de_briefing. What gives?"

"Well, it is a bit of a briefing. For two of you, anyways," Hawkins explained. "There's an air raid taking place tomorrow to push Erusea's forces back in to line, and we're planning on sending a few people to the island ahead of time. We'll be heading there once our operations here in Erusea have been completed." Naomi was wondering who he was referring to, and he noticed Hawkins glance to Bandog, who had been sitting next to Húxiān, and then Avril, beside Tabloid. The realization set in before Hawkins even finished what he was saying. "Miss Mead and...Bandog will be going to the island before we go to Farbanti. The exact date, however, we aren't quite sure."

Almost everyone began muttering under their breath, looking towards their two friends. Fencer was the first to protest, frowning and looking to Wiseman. "What for? Don't we need them here?"

Wiseman sighed, glaring at Hawkins. A glare that told Naomi that Wiseman wasn't consulted on this decision, and he clearly wasn't happy about it, either. "Tyler Island's mechanic was...lost in an attack a few days before the cease fire. The only squadron they have there is made up of prisoners who have been grounded. Even then, they won't be there much longer. They'll be shipping the IUN forces to the island as soon as possible, and they need someone to maintain their aircraft. As for Bandog, he'll go through a refresher course to officially become an MWD handler. From there, he and Sarge will be making sure our boys on the ground don't end up walking into a minefield. Quite literally."

"Hold on just a damned minute!" Tabloid raised his voice slightly, and Naomi noticed that Avril wasn't saying anything to protest the idea. Tabloid continued, his anger seeming to build. "Their mechanic was killed, so you're going to send her in there?!"

"Not definitely," Hawkins almost snapped. "The decision will be up to them to make, but I need one by tomorrow so I have something to tell General Perrault and the others." Naomi inwardly groaned upon hearing Perrault's name, but everyone went silent from there and said nothing. "Now you're all dismissed. Go and think over what I said, and Cyclops and Strider...you all take it easy. I'll inform you when we get an update." He looked around at them as they all reluctantly stood up, then turned to the whiteboard to scribble something down. Distractedly, he half-ordered, "Wiseman, you go with them as well. I'll let you know if we need your help."

Wiseman sighed and led the way out of the briefing room, out into the somewhat messy hallway. Once everyone was out, he shut the door behind them and they made sure that he knew exactly how little they liked the idea. It was Húxiān that spoke first, glancing to the door before she crossed her arms. "You actually agreed to that idea, Wiseman? You're just going to ship them off without any sort of support?" she asked, voicing what everyone else was thinking. "You don't think that's even a slightly bad idea?"

He took a deep breath. "It wasn't my idea, Húxiān. And it wasn't Hawkins' idea either." Without explaining himself, he started down the hall, not even looking back as he told them, "Alright, come on. We need to talk."

Everyone looked at one another and then to Naomi. She didn't like the idea, but she understood the reasoning behind it. Reluctantly, she started to follow Wiseman, seeing no reason not to. The idea wasn't what she wanted to hear, considering the good day they'd been having up until this point, but they may as well listen to what Wiseman had to say. The only way anyone would calm down is if they discussed it. Wiseman was usually good at bringing people around. It worked with her, and it was starting to work with Count.

The others slowly began to follow her and Wiseman, tense after that 'debriefing'. And Naomi was pretty sure that Wiseman understood that he wasn't going to be hearing the end of this very soon. He wanted to talk, and that's exactly what they were going to do. Whether he liked what they had to say or not.

* * *

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.****  
1300hrs.**

Dr. Schroeder stared almost judgmentally down at the package that had arrived for him earlier that day. He knew exactly what it was, but he was holding off on opening it as it just meant some more possibly needless work. And more work that Schroeder was really dreading at this point. The more he looked at the bigger picture, the more he began to realize that their work was only enabling the war to continue longer, and it was only continuing to fuel the fire that General Parrish so happily kept burning. There was also the matter of Mihaly's granddaughters, the eldest of which continued to send him dirty looks whenever he was trying to work and the two happened to be around. She knew the same thing he was starting to figure out, and she made sure he knew that she was well aware of his conscious decision to ignore his gut instincts.

The two generals had met a few days before shortly before Parrish had gone off to Tyler Island, likely to give Georg a hard time. Schroeder never liked when the facility got visitors, especially when those visitors worked with or for General Parrish. Even worse when it was Parrish himself, but unfortunately Schroeder valued his work too much to speak against him. The order was the same every time. Keep pushing Mihaly, and send the flight data in immediately. If Parrish knew just the kind of work it took to even get the data in the first place, and how draining it was on just about everyone, then maybe the man would have given them more time and patience. But perhaps that was just wishful thinking on Schroeder's part.

Sighing, Schroeder finally stepped forward, pulling his hands from out of his coat pocket and removing the pocket knife that he'd started to keep on him. With Parrish's visits having become more and more frequent, and the fact that the stress of running things and the decision making that came from it causing the good general to apparently become more easily unhinged, Schroeder had figured it best to keep something with him. Not only was it a handy tool when it came to work he may have to do around the hangar to get things to function properly, but it provided him with a means of self defense in case he and Parrish had another confrontation and things didn't go as smoothly as they had before.

As he moved to open the box, which contained a newer and hopefully much better G-suit for Mihaly, Schroeder hesitated. Only for a moment, long enough to second-guess his decision to open it. It should have been a simple choice, simply unpacking the suit and getting everything connected and up and running by the time Mihaly was ready to sortie again. But it wasn't that easy. The suit Mihaly had now was still holding up during the tests and mock dogfights they had done, so Schroeder wanted to test it in real combat before he started wearing out this one. It was more exact in the specifications, thanks to Schroeder's more precise calculation and instructions, and it was supposed to be more durable. But Schroeder wanted to use it as a last resort. The only problem was that it may be too long before they could give the other suit a real test in combat.

Shaking his head and pushing any more concerns away, Schroeder unfolded his knife and began to cut into the box. Right as he did, he was interrupted once more, only this time it wasn't his own thoughts that were giving him trouble. The rest of Sol Squadron, Mihaly's four wingman, entered the hangar. The four were talking quite loudly, and the sudden disturbance caused Schroeder to flinch slightly. He looked up, adjusting his glasses slightly as he watched them walk inside, at first paying no attention to him. From the looks on their faces, they seemed to be troubled by something, which seemed to be what they were carrying on about as they continued their conversation.

Seymour and Wit had led the way inside, Wit abruptly stopping and spinning on his heel to face Hermann as the latter said something that Schroeder hadn't been able to make out. "It may be small compared to a base like this in both size _and_ importance, but if Osea manages to take control of the north then Erusea will lose the war," Wit said with a huff, and Schroeder narrowed his eyes at the comment. Something had happened, not that it was hard to tell.

"In all fairness, Wit, why should we care what happens to Osea or Erusea?" Seymour asked his friend, a frown forming on his face. "Hermann's got a point. This may be a big deal for Osea and Erusea, but it's not something we should care about. Seriously, I say to hell with both of them."

Wit crossed his arms and gave an irritated scoff. "I figured that you of all people would see why, Seymour. You're the one usually going on about this!" When Seymour said nothing and the others gave Wit a quizzical look, he was quick to explain himself. "Look, I'm not thrilled to be fighting for a country that isn't mine. But whether I like it or not, until things change then this is the only way I can fight for them. And if Osea takes out the capital as well, it won't be long before the fighting moves to Shilage and Voslage. If it isn't our fight now, then it's going to be eventually."

Although it probably wasn't any of his business, curiosity got the better of him and Schroeder spoke up. "Is there something going on?"

The four men turned to look at him, surprised looks on their faces. He guessed that they weren't expecting him to be there, but given that he was always there and he usually ignored him, the more likely option was that they didn't think he'd say something. Wit glared at Hermann and Hermann returned it, much to Seymour and Roald's exasperation. It was Roald that spoke up. "Actually, yes. We just got out of a briefing. Osea took Cape Rainy early this morning, courtesy of Three Strikes. And since Three Strikes and her squadron are likely sticking around and Osea's going to be making themselves at home, HQ has decided to just let them have it, even if this puts the capital at even more of a risk."

"And it seems that I'm the only one around here that doesn't want a fight," Hermann practically snapped. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself. "Three Strikes is a nothing pilot compared to General Shilage. If Three Strikes is involved in the attack on the capital, then we can take her out with no problems. We've all seen how good the general is at putting Oseans in their place. They may be stronger, but Erusea's smarter and we don't let power go to our heads. And yes, that 'we' includes us, Wit!"

Schroeder blinked and frowned. Something about what they were saying just wasn't adding up properly. "If you're staying out of it, then what was the briefing for?"

"Osean forces are moving in to Tyler Island. I believe that fighting there is probably going to be starting up again sooner," Seymour answered, almost dismissive with the answer. Unlike Schroeder, there was no reason that the news would worry him. But many Belkan scientists and soldiers that operated alongside Gründer Industries, not just Georg (who Schroeder considered to be somewhat of a friend), were still at the island working with Erusea and making sure that the Arsenal Bird and the drones that they had stayed up and running. Seymour was probably only vaguely aware of this. He continued, taking brief note of Schroeder shifting standing positions in an almost anxious way. "Uh, it's not a big deal, though. However, they want us to be on alert while they monitor the situation. If any more Osean fighters are picked up on radar, they want us to intercept them. That's all."

"Right..." Schroeder distractedly replied, keeping his voice perfectly level and his expression as blank as always. He glanced towards his computers, wondering if he should try getting in touch with Georg and getting a possibly better update on the situation. Of course, he didn't really want to with so many people around. Nearby, Simon and Massa were looking over Mihaly's fighter just as he had asked them to, making sure none of their systems were acting up. He might have to ask them to hurry that along, knowing that Mihaly would want to be ready to fight at a moment's notice. Schroeder clenched his jaw. _Mihaly...is he ready for a real dogfight?_

Schroeder turned back to the group of pilots. "How did Mihaly seem? After the briefing, I mean."

The four exchanged a look, all hostility towards each other fading. Wit shrugged, smiling ever so slightly. "He seemed like...well, like Mihaly. You know how he is. Same old King, always ready for a fight, no matter what or where," he answered. Schroeder tried not to look too displeased by the answer, letting out a light sound of acknowledgement and nodding. That was exactly what he was worried about. It wasn't that he didn't think Mihaly would handle himself, it's just that his body had limits and the man was too stubborn to care. Wit, completely unaware of Schroeder's concerns, allowed his smile to grow as he glanced outside and then looked back at Schroeder. "You can ask him yourself. Reason we're here is because he wanted us to make sure we're ready to scramble if we have to."

Sure enough, when Schroeder looked up, Mihaly was walking into the hangar with an almost grim look on his face. Outside, Ionela and Alma stopped suddenly after trying to say something to him. Without another word, Ionela turned sharply and began to walk back towards the main building. Alma let her arms fall to her side, for the first time in a long while she wasn't holding her stuffed bear. She looked side to side, likely seeing who was in the hangar and it looked like she wanted to follow after Mihaly, but Ionela raised her voice and sternly called for her sister. Alma's expression changed to one of annoyance and she sent one last glance towards their grandfather before she rushed after her sister.

Based off of the exasperated and perhaps sympathetic looks that the rest of Sol Squadron gave Mihaly and each other, Schroeder guessed that this was a common occurrence as of late. It did seem that Mihaly's granddaughters had been rather short with him, surprising given that they were usually very close to their grandfather. In a way, Schroeder felt a bit guilty for playing a small role in this. He did know that Ionela had gotten in a fight with Mihaly, as Massa was the only girl that Ionela could confide in and he'd overheard the two of them talking. If not for Mihaly's determination and perhaps desperation to keep flying and eventually face his newfound rival then Ionela wouldn't have been upset with him. It was Mihaly's stubbornness that Schroeder only encouraged that caused the two to be at odds.

As soon as Mihaly reached his wingmen, everyone was quick to make it seem as though they had taken no notice of the mild disagreement that had taken place. Mihaly greeted the pilots with a nod, saying nothing to them as he walked over to Schroeder's work station. Schroeder maintained a consistent blank expression even though he was surprised by Mihaly walking straight towards him. He started to say something, a question, but Mihaly cut him off before he was able to get it out. As usual, Mihaly took the direct approach. "The experimental fighter your company was partnering with Erusea to work on. The Strike Wyvern. They completed it, did they not?"

It took a second for Schroeder to remember what Mihaly was talking about, but once he did he recalled that, alongside the F/A-18 drones that Georg had sent from Tyler Island a new, advanced fighter based off of an older Erusean design had been sent along with it. Mihaly and Sol Squadron was unaware of its presence there, but they likely knew it existed as the project had been announced many years before the war. Schroeder hesitated, wondering why Mihaly was interested in it enough to not even greet Schroeder in a normal manner. Schroeder finally decided to go with a less direct approach. "Yes...I believe so. I wasn't involved with the development of it, so I can't say for sure. Why do you ask?"

Mihaly sighed, glancing towards his Su-30SM. "There's only so much I'm capable of with my plane. I'm bound by its limitations and its weaknesses, not my own. I can't move as well as I used to be able to, and this plane is nothing but another object holding me back." The look on Mihaly's face, or rather in his eyes, was one of frustration but also of hope. "I need another option. A more advanced and agile aircraft that I can have better control over. Perhaps then I may have better luck against Three Strikes the next time we meet."

Schroeder narrowed his eyes, wishing there was some way he could get into Mihaly's head. Some way to understand this man. But there just wasn't a good way to do that. Still, he didn't want to disappoint him entirely. He wouldn't let him fly it, not yet. Not unless it was a last resort. He needed to test the G-suit under normal circumstances and in a real battle, and then they would move on to the newest one. And if it held up with Mihaly's regular fighter and Schroeder thought it was necessary, then an upgraded aircraft probably wouldn't be completely ruled out.

The real question Schroeder wanted an answer to was just how badly did Mihaly want Three Strikes dead? Ever since he'd found out his foe's true identity, he had more confidence and determination. Schroeder thought the entire pursuit was pointless. Knowing that Three Strikes was the child of a well known Belkan terrorist didn't exactly mean very good things, though Schroeder knew this wasn't a grudge that Mihaly had towards the family. The rivalry was between Mihaly and Three Strikes. But you could never be too careful. Schroeder could only sit there and keep his finger's crossed, almost helplessly praying that Mihaly wouldn't take this too far. There wasn't much chance that his hoping would do much, given that lines were always crossed during times of war. Everyone knew that, Schroeder especially.

At last, he came to a decision. He looked over at his assistants, making sure they were continuing their work, before he let out a sigh and shoved his hands into his pocket. Mihaly stood still, watching as Schroeder moved out from behind his computers. "Come with me, General. I have...something to show you." Mihaly followed him after a few seconds of hesitation, though he seemed suspicious in some way. Schroeder didn't care much about it. Besides, so long as Schroeder kept everything under control and his work actually paid off, then Mihaly wouldn't ever have to fly the new fighter. At least, that was the idea. There was no way to guarantee that it would work.

_And what if everything was for nothing?_ Schroeder couldn't help but wonder. If General Parrish had his way, though, hopefully they'd never have an answer to that.

* * *

**Cape Rainy Air Base, Erusea.**  
**1403hrs.**

Avril had kept quiet during the entire conversation with Wiseman. She didn't actually like the idea of going to Tyler Island without the rest of the LRSSG, mainly due to how dangerous it was. Even if they joined up later, there was still enough time for things to go wrong. And she got the feeling that something wasn't right. But at the same time, she had already made her peace with the possibility of going to the island, back when she was still working alongside Spare and was a part of their unit. She probably would have been dead by now had Wiseman not brought her and Tabloid back. But, then again, her luck on her own had lasted her this far. First a crash landing (which one could argue was really bad luck) that she survived, then being nothing more than a disposable asset while surviving countless bombing runs and trips to solitary at Zapland. Tyler Island would be nothing compared to that.

Even if she said 'yes' and chose to go there, to wait for the others to come once Farbanti fell, there was something holding her back. She'd noticed that Tabloid had been the most outspoken against the idea, and it made her feel guilty for actually considering going. When they had originally been shipped to Tyler Island, she knew she'd have at least one person on her side. Tabloid could be a real idiot sometimes but he had proven himself to be a good friend. But she wouldn't be accompanied by him. She'd be stuck with Bandog, who she and the others barely trusted. Trigger might be more neutral with him, but he hadn't one anyone else over and he wouldn't convince Avril that he was good any time soon. The same seemed to go for Count, and to a lesser extent, Tabloid.

Still, it gave her a chance to finally get some real work done. And she'd finally be free of Bandog's constant presence. If she was stuck with him as her only friend on a base still home to many convicts, at least he had a couple of good things going for him. One, she wouldn't have to work around him and babysit him all the time if they left. Two, at least he had that stupid dog of his to keep them safe, assuming Bandog actually cared about her enough to sic Sarge on anyone that may pose a threat to them. Then again, he might still be upset about her throwing that wrench at his head...on several occasions. Avril wasn't sure what to do, but she could try to get along with him until the others got there.

As the others wrapped up the conversation inside the hangar, Avril stood outside the door. She looked up at the sky, which was clear for the time being, and absentmindedly she raised a hand up in the air and focused on that. It was something her father had always told her to do whenever she felt lost or lonely, though she had been much younger when he'd told her about it. With him always away due to his work, eventually being deployed to fight at the frontline during the last war, Avril was usually left alone with her grandparents a lot of times. The idea was that the hand raising was her and her father's special way of communicating. All she had to do was look up at the sky, whenever, and just think about what she wanted to say to him and he'd hear it.

In hindsight, the entire idea was so childish and silly, but Avril went along with it. And after he died, the sky remained her only connection to him, but it was always just out of reach. Her mother had already been gone before her father died, then her grandparents followed them and Avril was left alone. All she really had left were the sky and the weird group of friends that she'd made thanks to prison, of all places. But she could really use some parental guidance. Her whole life she'd made it on her own, and she had to make this choice on her own, too. And she wanted to, but there were so many risks. And then there was Tabloid and the others, and she couldn't just leave them. Avril sighed, looking up at the sky. _You'd all tell me I'm thinking too much...and being stupid about all of this. Wish I could actually hear it from _you_, though_.

The sound of footsteps brought her attention away from her own thoughts and back into reality, and she stopped reaching for the sky and turned around to see the others emerge from the hangar. They all wore pretty sour expressions on their faces, and Wiseman wore a sympathetic one as he walked out. It was Tabloid that walked straight to Avril, Count and Trigger following him alongside Húxiān and Bandog. Wiseman and the others hung a few feet back, probably not sure if they should be a part of the conversation or not. Tabloid was the first to speak up as soon as he reached her. "So, they just dropped this bomb on you, too? You didn't know about any of it?"

He sounded tired and Avril nodded her answer before giving a short, almost deadpan reply. "Yeah, nobody told me anything. I was just as surprised as you are." Her eyes flicked up to Bandog and the others turned to face him as well when she addressed him. "I noticed that you didn't seem too shocked by the news. Is there something we should know about or are you going to wait until there's another 'accident' before you tell anyone about it?"

Bandog scowled when Count gave him a disapproving look as well. He shifted uncomfortably, noticing the same thing that everyone else did. Sarge was back in his temporary room so she wouldn't be in the way, which meant that if someone decided to, say, break his nose then there would be nothing stopping them. And if he was holding something important back, then Avril would gladly do just that. Bandog sighed. "I put in for a transfer a while ago," he admitted, glancing at Húxiān as though he was worried she'd be upset. "Face it, I'm not doing any good here. I figured I should go where Sarge and I can actually help out and Colonel Hawkins agreed to try and find me a good post as a handler."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Trigger asked him, blinking. She raised one eyebrow, crossing her arms as she turned to face him all the way. "Did you know about the rest of their plans? Did you know they planned to send Avril with you?"

"No, of course I didn't," Bandog answered shortly, rolling his eyes. "I'd have no reason to ask, either. It's not like Mead and I would have any reason to be shipped off together. It's not like I'm thrilled about it."

Count let out a sigh. "He makes a fair point. Besides, Avril hasn't agreed to anything, yet."

At this, Avril took a deep breath, knowing that they weren't going to like what she had to say. She shifted her weight around for a bit before settling on her uninjured leg. "Actually...I think I'm going to go. If someone has to go, may as well be me. I saw what the IUN's planes looked like after that fight, and they barely took any damage. They could use a bit of an advantage during a battle," Avril said flippantly, trying not to make the situation sound serious at all. She may have been nervous, but she wasn't about to let any of them know that. The others turned to look at her curiously, while Wiseman and the older pilots seemed surprised. Avril shrugged. "It's not like I'll never see you guys again. Once you're done at Farbanti, they'll probably send you straight our way. It's really not a big deal."

Tabloid looked concerned, and he took another step towards her before he spoke again. "Are you sure you want to do that? If the fighting really does start up again, there's no telling how bad it'll get. If it was chaos then, it's going to be just as chaotic this time."

Avril rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. "It's not like I can't take care of myself, Tabloid. Again, you'll only have a couple of days to wait before the rest of the LRSSG comes. And it's not like I'll be alone, I'll..." She hesitated, looking towards Bandog. The two of them made eye contact and both frowned, likely sharing the exact same thought about the company they had. _I hate this_. Avril kept her annoyance in check. "I'll have Bandog."

"Just so you both know, there's no need to feel an obligation to go. We could still make good use of your talents here," Wiseman spoke up from where he was standing. For the first time since Avril met him, she was actually a bit grateful for what he had to say. It seemed to put Tabloid at ease a little bit, as well as Count and Trigger, and if it worked then Avril was happy that he said it. Wiseman looked around at them, understanding the problems they all had with the situation. "We just want to take things one step at a time, and from the way things are going...well, we want to cover all of our options. You two will be more of scouts than anything. If it gets too bad, Osea will withdraw everyone from the island. But...it's not an idea everyone is on board with. It's just the best one we have right now, outside of our operation to take Farbanti."

She looked to Bandog and looked him up and down. After about a minute, the two came to a mutual, silent agreement and they both took a look around their friends. "I'll go," Avril said with a firm nod. She looked to Tabloid, who took a deep breath and looked away from her. He kept his expression blank, but Avril knew that he was worried. So, she tried to reassure him as best as she could. "It'll be fine, Tabloid. I can't stay cooped up around here. I deserve a bit more action, y'know?"

"I just...wish I could go with you," Tabloid said, glancing at the others. He let out a weak laugh and gave her a smile. "Who else will help me put up with these assholes?"

Avril managed an amused smirk as he gestured back at their friends. Although Count and Trigger looked a bit offended by the comment, they also seemed a bit understanding of the situation and gave Avril and Tabloid sympathetic looks. Avril decided to try once more to reassure him and the others. "It's temporary. We'll all be back together before you know it, givin' Erusea _and_ Osea a hard time," she said, attempting to joke but not really doing a very good job of it. She took a step forward, doing something she'd never done before and rested a hand on his cheek. He looked up and once she had his attention she moved her hand to his shoulder. "Tabloid. It's gonna be fine."

Tabloid sighed and shrugged, putting on his usual grin and straightening his posture a bit. He glanced at her hand, almost nervous, and Avril decided then to take a step back. Once the awkwardness seemed to die down, Tabloid took a deep breath and nodded. "I know you can handle yourself. I just want you to be careful," he said quickly. "Even if it is only a few days, there's no way of knowing how fast things will change. This is a war, after all."

"Tabloid's right," Trigger said suddenly, and the look on her face was more serious than it usually was. "Not to mention how badly things have been on the island in the past. It's split in half right now, but Osea or Erusea could suddenly get the upper hand. Once that happens...well, it's like Tabloid said earlier. It's just one big, stupid game of tug of war. You can't take too many chances out there."

"Don't worry, we've already taken that into account," Wiseman said, taking a couple of steps toward them. "We're giving them a couple of days to prepare, and the Osean base on the island is already making accommodations for their arrival. Hopefully everything will go smoothly, but we do need to work on some things. Just in case it starts to go south before we get there."

Avril and Bandog both nodded and Bandog spoke first. "Alright. Let's start getting ready, then."

* * *

**Spring Sea, Near Tyler Island.**  
**1700hrs.**

"Golem Squadron, Mage Squadron, continue on your current course. You should be arriving at Tyler Island within the hour."

Sky Keeper's announcement was of little comfort, as the entire day had been a rather boring and stressful one for everyone. It was supposed to be a patrol of the air space around Tyler Island, though it was more of a reconnaissance mission than anything. The temporary cease fire was soon to come to an end, as in spite of the Erusean and Osean force's attempts at reaching an agreement, one of the Erusean government's higher ranking members called off the negotiations on the island. Apparently the king had authorized it. The fighting could start again at any minute, and there were rumors that Erusea would be pushing back harder in order to keep the mass driver and the surrounding facilities on their territory.

With an operation soon starting to take the capital from Erusea and hopefully begin to cripple them, the IUN was moving everyone around. They brought Gargoyle Squadron and the newly reestablished Skeleton Squadron to Fort Grays and were sending Golem and Mage to a forward base near Erusean territory. They were most likely going to be taking a back seat again, in favor of the LRSSG. Ever since the joint operation to take down the _Alicorn_ had come to an end, the IUN was back to being nothing more than fodder for cheap patrols and testing the Arsenal Bird's defensive range. Now, hopefully, they might be having an opportunity to do a bit more.

Kathryn sighed and leaned her head back, maintaining her position in formation with Clown and Grimm. Further ahead, Golem Squadron was leading the way. Once they were done with their mission at Tyler Island, it was off to that other IUN base to wait around for something else to do. PJ and some other staff were already there. Last she heard from Genette, he and Jacob's unit had met up with the LRSSG at a temporary base and he would probably be following them the rest of the way to Farbanti. This meant they would get a chance to see him again. At least, that was the idea.

Truth be told, Kathryn wasn't exactly sure what she thought of the LRSSG. After the heated disagreement they'd had in the air and the fact that Kathryn had been proven wrong, her pride was more than a little hurt over the entire thing. Maybe she felt threatened by Naomi and the rest of the unit, or maybe she was upset that she'd basically gotten lectured like that. Either way, she wasn't looking forward to seeing them again. She'd made it clear to Naomi that there weren't any hard feelings over it, and really there weren't. Kathryn was just still trying to sort out her own feelings on it. It started to seem like she was more upset with herself than she was with Naomi. Over the last few nights, she had avoided talking about it, and she and Grimm hadn't brought it up. She had no idea how he was doing, but he seemed to be in roughly the same boat.

As the flight went on and Kathryn was left to her own thoughts, she started to grow tired of the silence. It just felt weird. Had this been years before, there would have been plenty of chatter. Hell, she was surprised that Golem Squadron was being so quiet. Usually Boggard would have started driving everyone crazy by now, which reminded Kathryn of Chopper's antics, but he was just as bored as everyone else it would seem. It got to the point where Kathryn needed a break from the boredom and her own thoughts. She let out a huff and broke the silence. "Hey, anybody have any idea how long we've been up in the air? Because I hate to say it, but I'm ready to call it a day and go to bed."

"We've been at this since...what, a little before noon?" Knocker spoke next, sounding a little bored himself. "Just keep pulling through. We'll be done in just a little while."

"Maybe so, but I still wish something exciting would happen." That was Boggard. It was nice to know that he was still his usual self. Kathryn had quickly figured out exactly how everyone behaved and worked together, and Boggard maintained the title of the thrill-seeking jokester of Golem Squadron. Boggard sighed. "Seriously. After we helped out Trigger and them, I don't think anything is going to top that. Talk about crazy."

"You should be grateful that this mission is so slow," Grimm said suddenly, almost scolding them although he kept a level head. "If there was any activity, then it'd be bad news for us. Surprise dogfights aren't exactly the best way to finish off a long day. Trust me, we'd know all about that. Wouldn't we, Blaze?"

"Yeah...I guess so," Kathryn answered. Truth be told, she was on Boggard's side here, but she had to act mature and as though she wasn't too eager for a fight. In a way, she was actually disappointed by the lack of action. She was tired, bored, and not to mention that she felt absolutely useless.

With her almost distracted reply, both Grimm and Clown seemed to figure out what she was thinking. Clown was quick to confront her about it, never one to hold back if he had something to say. "Oh, c'mon, Kid. You're not still upset because Trigger yelled at ya, are you?" he asked, but Kathryn didn't answer. She still didn't think she was, as there wasn't a particular person she was upset with. Clown went on without waiting for her to reply. "If that's not it, then would ya mind letting us in on why you've been so weird lately? You've barely spoken since we took off today."

Kathryn hesitated, but eventually she answered with the first thing that came to mind. "Boggard makes a good point, that's all. It'd be nice to have a little more action," she said. After a pause, she added with a quiet laugh, "I guess that last battle just spoiled me a little."

If either Clown or Grimm had anything else to say about it, they didn't. After a couple more minutes of silence, Kathryn was actually a bit relieved when an alert went off, announcing something new on their radar. However, anxiety was quick to set in among the group, as they already ran the risk of bumping into Erusea's drones if they slipped up and passed over the line that triggered them. Footpad spoke up, radioing their AWACS. "Sky Keeper, this is Golem 4. Looks like we have some approaching aircraft and they're coming in pretty fast. They friendlies or what?"

"Hold on...looking into it now. I don't think any of our allies were supposed to be this far out today..." Sky Keeper answered slowly. It sounded to Kathryn as though he was a little suspicious. They waited patiently, preparing for the worst in case they had to deal with an unexpected fight. The newcomers were closing in quickly, and it didn't take long for Sky Keeper to figure out what they were and what they wanted. "What the hell? Five Su-30s are approaching your location."

"You said Su-_30s_, right?" Knocker suddenly demanded.

"That's right. You do not have permission to engage right away. All aircraft, hold your fire," Sky Keeper ordered sternly in response to Knocker's question. Everyone let out their own protests against the order, but they all maintained their formation as the Su-30s continued their approach. Kathryn didn't like this. It seemed off, just sitting and waiting for the enemy to approach. They were all ready for a fight, but apparently Sky Keeper insisted they have visual confirmation before they attacked.

It didn't take long for the squadron to close in on the IUN's position. The glint of the sun on metal could be seen as five fighters made their approach head on. One of them was notably faster than the other five, and Kathryn guessed and quickly figured out that he was likely their leader. Two of the fighters flew past Golem and Mage's left, the other two by the right, and the lead plane pulled up slightly and flew straight down the middle, directly above them. Kathryn tracked his movements, turning in her seat to look behind her, making out what she could of the fighters turning back around and regrouping. The warning of the enemy tracking them on radar caused an instant reaction in all of them, and when Knocker and Clown shouted 'BREAK!' at the last second, no one hesitated.

Five pairs of missiles shot past them, several of them just barely avoiding a hit from them. Mage and Golem split into two different directions to evade the enemy and ready themselves for a retaliation, watching the enemy squadron split and prepare for yet another attack. The livery of the planes was rather interesting from what Kathryn saw of it. Four were dark gray with the Erusean roundels on their wing tips and an emblem that she couldn't make out. The lead plane, on the other hand, was the same dark gray, but the tail and wingtips had been painted orange. She'd heard Knocker and the others talk about a plane like this before, and it didn't take long before they recognized it.

"Boggard, Blaze, you may be getting that excitement that you wanted," Faun said, almost in exasperation. "Captain...that plane look familiar to you?"

"He sure as hell matches the description. Time to settle a score," Knocker full on snarled the response, but he didn't make a move to engage right away. "Sky Keeper...permission to engage..."

"Permission granted. These guys could be trouble later on," Sky Keeper said, sharing a bit in Knocker's hostility, but not on the same level. "All aircraft, attack!"

Everyone paired up and picked a target, separating the enemy squadron to make them easier to fight. Knocker went straight for the lead plane, firing right away even though the enemy plane evaded like it was nothing. Boggard and Footpad paired off to go after one of the other fighters, though they worked together and seemed to be waiting for the right shot to come along. Faun managed to strafe one of them as he picked out which one he would go for, but it seemed to have no effect on his enemy. Grimm and Kathryn paired up to separate the last two and then split them off and chased them in different directions. Clown, with little warning, pulled around and went to assist Knocker.

It wasn't much of a dogfight, with the IUN squadrons' offensive attacks failing. All the pilots on both sides could do was evade, although the Su-30s had much better agility and more skilled movements than Golem and Mage. It didn't seem like they were trying at all. What it did seem like was that they were mocking them, toying with them and tiring them out like they were prey. Kathryn didn't like that at all, but she wasn't about to lose her nerve. She kept an eye on her radar an on her allies while also watching out for her target, something she did with ease, having learned to multitask during a battle long ago, during her time leading Wardog.

The enemy fighter she was tailing made a hard turn and flew directly towards her, firing a missile as it did. She banked and did the same while the fighter copied her movements and went in the opposite direction. Neither her missiles nor the Erusean's managed to connect. Nearby, Knocker and Clown were both struggling with the lead plane. Knocker had already taken a hit from a missile, but he wasn't trailing smoke and he seemed to be flying alright. Clown had been on the receiving end of some machine gunfire, but he seemed fine as well. Boggard and Footpad had scored a small hit on the fighter they were chasing, whereas Faun hadn't succeeded in dealing anymore damage to the plane he was after.

Grimm had been chasing his guy for a while, to the point where he let out a frustrated shout when the missile he fired failed to hit the plane once again. He fired once more, and this time the Su-30 deployed its flares and, just for good measure, braked hard. It flipped into a vertical position and drifted backwards, nearly colliding with Grimm's F-16 as it did so. "What the hell?!" Grimm let out a surprised yell as the Su-30 leveled out behind him. He didn't even have time to process exactly what had just happened before the enemy plane fired, and he couldn't evade. One missile hit his plane and he made a startled cry that caused a chill to run down Kathryn's spine.

It looked as though the enemy was about to finish him off, as Grimm's mobility was affected by that hit. He wouldn't be able to evade in time, and Kathryn was too far away to reach him. She had her own problem to deal with, having to roll to get free of a missile lock. Grimm grunted as he tried to lose the Su-30, but he didn't sound like he was having much luck. "Gah! This is Archer! I can't evade, requesting support!" Grimm managed, his words strained. "Please, anybody!"

Kathryn wanted to help him, but she knew she couldn't get there in time. Her own missile warnings were going off and she felt herself suddenly thrown forward when her plane shook. _Shit_. Kathryn grunted in pain as she pulled herself backwards to avoid hitting her head against the instruments in front of her. She didn't think she would, but instinct made her pull herself back. Although she didn't have to look to know she'd been hit, she needed to assess the damage. One quick look told her it wasn't bad, and she didn't worry about her own status for very long, pulling up and quickly looking around the skies for her husband. He made one last call for support, then tried as hard as he could to get free of the lock the enemy had on him.

She finally got a visual on him again, in time to see Clown come to his aid right before the enemy could make another attempt to hit him. Kathryn let out a relieved sigh as Clown forced the enemy to break off, firing his machine gun and managing to graze him while Grimm began to fly away, trying to get to the outside of all the fighting. There wasn't anywhere he could really retreat to, so he had to find a way to stay out of the fighting somehow. When the enemy tried to pursue him, Clown quickly put an end to that. "Why don't ya pick on someone else and stop going for the easy target? C'mon, let's dance, you jackass!"

The Su-30 couldn't go after Grimm thanks to Clown's efforts, and Kathryn had a reason to fight harder. Angered by the relentless pursuit and the back and forth fight they were in, Kathryn made a high-G turn so she was facing her own rival. She went all out as soon as she had a lock. Her F-16 wasn't exactly evenly matched with the Su-30, given that the Erusean fighter seemed to have a lot of extra work put into it for it to move like that, but Kathryn had experience. She knew how to make things work in her advantage. With some split-second strategy, she was on his tail and she waited until she had a solid lock.

One second. Two. He started to turn, anticipating her firing at him and trying to get away before she did. Kathryn smiled a little to herself. _Too soon, kid_. She matched his movement, going a little further but managing to stick to his tail and keep in perfect firing range. She throttled up, firing once she was almost right on his tail, then she pulled up and rolled away. The sounds of Golem cheering told her the missiles hit, and when she pulled around in case he tried for a counterattack, she saw that that wouldn't be a problem. Kathryn hadn't destroyed the target, but she had damaged his plane enough that he couldn't keep fighting. He started to withdraw from the fight after a brief moment of what looked like hesitation, and the plane Clown had gotten a couple of gun hits on followed him.

From there, Kathryn thought it would be easy, but it looked as though she'd caught the enemy leader's attention. Knocker was struggling to keep up, and the lead plane broke away from him with ease, heading for her instead. He opened fire immediately and Kathryn rolled to evade, barely recovering before he came back around for another run. Knocker followed him, but he was barely able to match the enemy. He was slower and took a more direct, head-on approach when it came to attacking. He was blinded by his own personal vendetta against this pilot, whoever he was, and Kathryn could understand that. She'd been in the same boat many times before.

But if this enemy ace (at least, she assumed he was an ace) wanted to pick a fight with her, then Kathryn wasn't going to hold back. A squadron reflected their teaching and, through that, they reflected their leader. And no pilots worthy of any honor went after retreating planes, especially damaged retreating planes. This pilot's wingmen threatened her and they'd nearly killed Grimm. Damage or no damage, Kathryn would show them how a real pilot fights. Admittedly, she'd had a surge of adrenaline when the squadron arrived, and that was probably the only thing keeping her from getting shot down. "Knocker! Think you can cover me? Maybe one of us can get a hit on this guy if we work together," Kathryn called out.

"We can try," Knocker panted out. He let out a frustrated huff as he tried to catch his breath. "This son of a bitch is pretty stubborn, though."

"Kathryn, please be careful," Grimm called out to her, half pleading with her. "These guys are skilled. There's no telling what their leader's like."

"Well, they haven't met me when I'm pissed off," Kathryn answered while she planned out her next attack. She had to be quick about it, otherwise she couldn't make the shot. Based off of what she'd seen of the wingmen and their fighting, her best bet of hitting him was head on. In reality, it was easier said than it was done. Taking a deep breath, willing her little plane to hold itself together for a little while longer, Kathryn turned and tried to get the fight going. It seemed like her new challenger was watching her movements, trying to figure her out, as he hesitated when she came at him. Knocker had his tail, keeping him from going back, and then Kathryn was coming straight for him.

He fired at Kathryn and she fired at the exact same moment. She managed to evade, whereas he wasn't so lucky. She got a hit on him, though it wasn't much, and it seemed as though that was the last straw for him. Or he just wanted to finish up and go home. He ignored Knocker and tried to split Kathryn away from him so he could take her on two on one. She had no choice but to go back to the weaving and feeble dodging. It seemed to go on forever, and during her turning and circling she managed to hit him a couple of times with her gun, but having nothing to do but run, wait, and hope for the best was frustrating. Her original strategy went out the window.

Knocker jumped in after a minute or two of watching and he fired as soon as he had a lock. One missile hit and Kathryn realized that she could bait him, for a little while, anyways. Just long enough that Knocker could get another hit on him. If they worked it right, they might be able to shoot him down. It seemed the ace had other plans, though, and he fired a regular missile followed by two QAAMs. One QAAM found its mark and Kathryn yelped as she made the stupid mistake of bracing for the impact. Another hit like that and she'd be done for, but if she was going down then she was going down fighting. She pulled her F-16 into a vertical climb, and although she couldn't pull a fancy post-stall maneuver like the Su-30's pilot had done, she wasn't out of ideas.

She braked hard and brought her plane into a regular stall. Lucky for her, the Su-30 overshot and when she picked up enough speed to recover, she had him in her sights. He was even faster to figure out the amateur maneuver she'd pulled and was already in a dive straight towards her. Kathryn did notice that his movements were far more sloppy than they had been when they had started this dogfight, a sign that he was tiring out. She'd give him props for resilience, that much was for sure. Already resigned to her fate, just wanting the fight to be over, she stayed on her course. Both of them fired at the same time and her missile missed. Her opponent's did not.

Her plane shook and various warnings began to blare in her ear, all around the cockpit. She grunted, leveling out, waiting for the guy to come back around and finish the job. But to her surprise, it looked as though the enemy squadron had finished having their fun. Sky Keeper made sure this was the case before he said anything. "Enemy squadron is withdrawing from the airspace. You managed to damage them enough, but obviously at a price...Golem, Mage, do you think can you make it to the base further inland?"

"Dammit..." Knocker cursed. As quickly as the enemy had arrived, they vanished in the blink of an eye. Their flight lead gave a frustrated yell and it sounded like he slammed his fist against something. He quickly regained his composure long enough to check on everyone. "Blaze, Grimm...you two took the most damage. Can you still fly."

"I'll be fine. I might have a shaky landing, but I'll be able to make it back to base. It's her you need to worry about," Grimm answered quickly, and as expected he decided to put her on the spot like that. There was concern in his voice as he radioed her. "Blaze...Kathryn, are you okay?"

Kathryn closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. She already knew this plane wasn't going to come out of the fight. "No. I mean, physically I could be better, but I'm just a little shaken up. My plane...I can't make it back to base in this thing. The engine's probably gonna give out before we even make it back to base. There's no real point in even trying."

"Kid, you're not actually going to do what I think you are...are you?" Clown asked her, sounding as concerned as Grimm was.

"I'm going to bail out," Kathryn confirmed. She bit her lip, knowing there were probably easy and less dramatic solutions, but she couldn't think of any at the moment. She felt dizzy and lightheaded. She wanted to throw up. "I'll drop it in the ocean. Put in a request for a rescue and get out of here. I'll be fine."

"What? We're not going to just leave you like that!" Grimm raised his voice at her, something he didn't often do. He stumbled over his words for a moment, probably working up the courage to keep shouting, and he finally got out what he was going to say. "_I'm_ not gonna leave you! Now isn't the time for you to start following in Bartlett's footsteps, not out here, in the middle of nowhere! Do you know how close we are to enemy lines? What if they get to you first? If it's happened before, there's nothing to stop it from happening again!"

Kathryn paused for a moment. With another breath, she spoke again, far more stubborn and stern than she had been before. "Technically...technically I outrank all of you. Don't make me order you to leave. Don't think that I won't, either."

"Please...Kathryn, I can't leave you. Don't ask me to do that." The pain in Grimm's voice, how strained and shaky it was, made Kathryn feel a pit in her stomach. She hated doing this to him, and she hated that the exact thing he'd been worried about was happening. But there wasn't anything else to do.

"I'll be fine," Kathryn answered, trying to keep her voice steady. He didn't answer her, and she was actually grateful for this. She didn't have much time, and she was already starting to have a difficult time keeping her plane in the air. "Knocker? Clown? Are you on board with this?"

"Fine. If that's what you want, then that's what we'll do," Knocker finally decided, and Clown muttered in agreement. "Sky Keeper, put in a request for rescue. Send them her coordinates. Golem, Mage...we should get out of here. They may have called drones in to finish the job. And for the record, I hate this plan."

"Then why agree to it?" Clown growled, sounding furious.

"Because there's no other choice!" Knocker shot back, quickly silencing any further protest. "She can't make it back in that plane. Even if she did, it'd never fly again. This is her only chance."

"I'll be back. Getting shot down has never stopped me before. No reason why it should, now," Kathryn said, trying for a bit of optimism.

"Mage 2, rescue request sent. You'll be home in no time. Just hang tight. And...good luck." That was the last thing she heard from Sky Keeper, or anybody, before she had no choice but to bail out. She was shot from her plane, and she watched her allies retreat from the airspace one by one. Among them was her husband, and she knew that he and Clown were probably cursing her and themselves the whole way. Kathryn didn't know what would happen to her and she didn't care. They were safe for now, and that was all that mattered.

_You wanted something exciting. Well, here you go_. She heard that thought in Grimm's voice, knowing that if she lived through the rest of this war, he was going to lecture her on this. Next time, she would be more careful about what she wished for. Kathryn closed her eyes, feeling physical and emotional pain and exhaustion as she fell closer and closer to the ocean below. _I'm sorry, Hans_.


	38. Persistence

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Persistence

|...|...|...|

**Cape Rainy Air Base, Erusea.**  
_**September 17th, 2019.**_  
**0800hrs.**

|...|...|...|

"Well, I'd say you're all ready to go," Colonel Hawkins said as he walked around to the back of the transport plane. Bandog and Mead had been up early, helping the small group of soldiers that would be accompanying them load up the plane. Equipment, food supplies, and personal effects all lugged out and onto the plane. The only thing they hadn't loaded up was Sarge and Bandog was trying to postpone that as long as he could. Right now, Húxiān, Trigger, and the rest of the LRSSG were entertaining Sarge while Mead and Bandog finished up. Hawkins had come down to make sure everything was going alright. He gave a tired sigh as he came to a stop in front of them, glancing towards the others. "All that's left now is to say your goodbyes. The marines are ready to leave whenever you are."

Bandog and Mead exchanged a look, neither one of them too happy about the whole plan in the first place. It was too late to back out now, and it wasn't like they had many other choices. Between sitting around and being useless while Mead did all the work or going on patrols with Sarge and actually doing some good, Bandog liked the second option a lot better than the first. Besides, Sarge was a working dog and it wasn't fair to her to stay around and be treated like a pet or something. As much as everyone else seemed to like that, Bandog wasn't big on her doing nothing more than keeping up morale. At least he and Mead wouldn't have to be stuck with each other for too long.

"That shouldn't be too long," Bandog said at last, with one final glance at Mead. She was keeping quiet, which was a nice alternative to her doing nothing more than bitching at him. _Won't be long before that starts up_, he thought bitterly. It was a long flight from here to Tyler Island, and it was fairly out of the way for them. At least Cyclops and Strider would have a faster route from Farbanti. He looked over his shoulder when he heard Sarge bark, fast enough to catch a glimpse of Húxiān and Trigger laughing at the dog's antics before he looked back at Hawkins. "I can't speak for Mead, but I'll be ready to go within the hour, sir. I'm just trying to give Sarge a good workout before she has to be cooped up in that kennel."

Hawkins gave a nod and an understanding smile. "Of course. By all means, take your time. I don't think anybody would mind." The colonel looked down at his watch and let out a tired huff before he spoke again. "Unfortunately, I won't be able to see you off. I've got a video meeting in a few minutes so we can make the final preparations on our next mission. Rest assured, you won't be on your own for too long. Have a safe trip, alright?"

"Thank you, sir," Bandog said, not sure of how else to respond. Colonel Hawkins had been more than a little standoffish, which Bandog simply chalked up to the extra workload he'd been given. He and Mead both said goodbye to Hawkins and watched him walk off before turning around to head over to their friends. Bandog quickly took note of Mead's scowl as they started walking. She almost never smiled, except for Tabloid and maybe Trigger and Count, but the scowl was more prominent than it usually was. He could already guess that she had something negative to say in reply, but he may as well ask her out of...friendly curiosity. If you could call it that. "And what are you pissed off about now?"

Mead shot him a disapproving look, crossing her arms as she limped alongside him. She didn't answer at first, looking as though she were debating telling him or not, but she finally spoke up. "The base commander's weird and the company commander is annoying. And aside from Count, I think I'm the only one that doesn't kiss their asses 24/7," she said at last, actually mildly cringing when she brought up Count. "I'm not exactly thrilled to be agreeing with that asshole on something, either, but it is what it is."

Bandog frowned. "You two really need to let up on Wiseman and Hawkins. They didn't have to take us in, but they did. I wasn't too happy with the arrangement, either, but they could have already shipped you off to Tyler Island to die with the rest of Spare. Or what was left of them, anyways," he said to her. "All I'm saying is that you all should be grateful to them. Without their help, you'd still be stuck fixing up planes for lowlife criminals that don't care one way or the other about you."

She let out an irritated huff. "Whatever. You can think what you'd like about them. All I know is that if it wasn't for the air force, I wouldn't even be here in the first place," Mead answered him sharply. "This isn't my fight, but I'm going because I've got nowhere else to. I may have chosen it this time around, but I don't have to be happy about it."

A short silence fell over them as they approached their companions. Bandog would very much have liked to continue arguing with her, believing completely that she and the other convicts had only been there as a result of their own actions. They redeemed themselves and earned their right to go free, Bandog wouldn't say anything against that, but they still had a chip on their shoulder. Bandog wasn't really in a position to criticize them for that, but at least he could lay his blame where it actually belonged instead of on people who had spent the last few months helping him. Still, he'd learned that Mead was stubborn, perhaps even more than the others were, and arguing any more would just be pointless and exhausting. So he kept his mouth shut.

Once they reached the others, Sarge immediately broke away from Húxiān (who had crouched down to pet her) and snatched her ball up, racing over to Bandog. He reached down to scratch her behind the ears, earning a tail wag from her, before he wrestled the ball free from her mouth and threw it as far as she could. Without any hesitation, she raced off after it, carefully maneuvering between Húxiān and the rest of the pilots as she did. Húxiān and Trigger both laughed.

"That dog of yours is somethin' else, Bandog," Húxiān said, shaking her head. When she noticed the half-hearted smile he gave her, then the look on Mead's face, her own smile faded. "I take it from the depressing looks, you've both finished packing up?"

The two of them nodded and Tabloid gave them a surprised look. "Wow. That didn't feel like very long at all," he said, looking to Mead. His usual, annoyingly cheerful demeanor faded fast as he let out a sigh and asked her, "So, does that mean you'll be leaving right away?"

Mead glanced at Bandog with disapproval and shrugged. "Considering that Bandog still has to catch that mutt of his, we've probably got a few minutes," she said to him. She gave his shoulder a gentle, playful punch and smirked, her eyes lighting up. "Aw, cheer up, Tabloid."

He tried for a small smile, but it wasn't much compared to his usual grin. Everyone, except for Bandog, gave him a sympathetic look. Bandog was just tired of watching these two act the way they did, all the time. Still, it was nice to know that Mead wasn't completely made of stone. She had the patience to handle Tabloid, Trigger, and Count, and an obvious soft spot for Tabloid. But she still hated Bandog, and the others just barely trusted him. He wasn't going to come around that easily.

While he watched Mead continue talking with Tabloid before Trigger and Count started to say their own goodbyes, Bandog quickly took notice of Húxiān's subdued expression and how quiet she suddenly was. He looked over at her curiously and raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're going to get all sappy on me, too," he said, almost in a teasing tone of voice.

Húxiān was taken aback momentarily, but she quickly played it cool and scoffed. "Yeah, you wish. I ain't gonna miss you that much." Although it was a perfectly fair thing to say, Bandog felt a little offended by it. They may not have known one another for very long, but he liked to think they'd become fast friends, especially given their conversation a few days ago. She seemed to realize that what she said might have been a little too harsh and backed off a bit. "Okay, maybe I'll miss you a little. After all, you're takin' the dog with you. And you're the only other person besides Trigger who'll help me gang up on Count."

Bandog chuckled. "I'm sure you can handle him just fine on your own. And like you said, if not, Trigger's got you covered," he said to her, earning a quiet laugh.

"Right. For real, though, you and Avril stay safe out there. I've heard Tyler Island is basically hell on earth every time the fighting kicks in," Húxiān said, the slightest hint of concern in her voice. She looked down when Sarge returned and gave a fond smile, leaning down to pet Sarge between the ears, briefly massaging the dog's forehead. Sarge gave an appreciative whine and wagged her tail, causing Húxiān's smile to grow. "But, then again, you've got this big ol' softy to look after you. What do ya say, Sarge? You gonna keep him out of trouble? Yes, that's a very good girl!"

"I get the feeling you're going to miss Sarge more than me," Bandog said with a smirk. Húxiān rolled her eyes and looked up at him, giving an exasperated chuckle before she stood up beside him. He sighed, realizing now just how little he wanted to go. Even if he was actually getting to do some real work, he'd miss Húxiān's company. And, in spite of what she said or how she acted, he knew that deep down she was going to miss him as well. "Good luck at Farbanti. Kick some Erusean ass for me, alright?"

She grinned and her dark brown eyes had a sudden spark in them. "You know I'm gonna!"

Húxiān elbowed him when she said this, and he gave a rare smile himself. One that he quickly wiped away as soon as Count looked over at them. Whatever this war had in plan for Bandog down the line, dying from embarrassment due to Count's dumbass remarks was not on the list of ways he'd like to go out. He felt better, thanks to Húxiān, though. Even if he and Sarge were heading straight into hell, he at least knew that Osea wasn't going down without a fight. One way or another, the capital and that island was theirs. Bandog would do whatever he could to make sure of that, even if he died fighting for them. He wasn't going down a coward or a liar, you could bet on that.

* * *

**1200hrs.**

It didn't take long for Wiseman and Major Grimm to assign everybody some extra work once Avril and Bandog had left for Tyler Island. Unfortunately, in spite of the operation's success, Strider Squadron and Basilisk Team had made a pretty big mess of the base. Twisted and torn vehicles and debris from crashed aircraft littered the second runway and the far half of the main one. Those were the main spots, though there were others scattered around the island that had taken a beating. The air force, army, and marines had to work together once again to clear up the place, starting wherever they felt like and going from there.

Count was stuck working with more of Grimm's men than his own wingmates. Tabloid, Trigger, and Fencer were working alongside him, but they were outnumbered by ground troops. He didn't have an issue with the company so much as he did with the work itself. Memories of working in the hellish temperatures at Zapland in the summer, clearing away debris from his own fallen squadron mates or from any of their buildings that ended up taking a beating. Count hated working on the ground for many reasons and that was one of them, though the conditions did improve a bit once Trigger came along. He may not like Fencer too much, but at least he and Tabloid and Trigger offered something to take his mind off the work.

Of course, Tabloid had been off ever since Avril had agreed to go to Tyler Island. Húxiān had seemed a bit disappointed that Bandog was going, too, though Count really didn't understand why she was suddenly so fond of him to begin with. Tabloid, on the other hand, had always had a soft spot for Avril. Count had been his cellmate since the first day Tabloid got there, and thus Count had become friends with him pretty quickly. Count could read him like a book, and the moment Tabloid saw Avril arrive at Zapland, the guy literally froze for a couple of seconds.

Count felt bad for the guy, knowing just how long this ridiculous crush of his had been going on. But one of the first things Count and the rest of Spare had learned about Avril was that she could handle herself. Champ tried to hit on her once, not bothering to keep his hands to himself, and she nearly knocked his teeth out with that wrench of hers...among some other less pleasant and far more painful things. If anybody could survive in a hellhole like Tyler Island was said to be, it was Avril. And as much as he hated to admit it, bringing Bandog along wasn't such a bad idea, either. At least that dog of his was finally out of everyone's hair.

As he and Tabloid finished tossing a large sheet of scrap metal onto the pile they'd set aside, Count took a deep breath and looked around at how much work they'd gotten done already. "Ha. At this rate, we might actually be done by dinnertime," he said, clapping his hands together to brush some of the dust off the gloves he was wearing. Tabloid nodded in agreement, but said nothing, tossing a smaller scrap that they'd missed into the pile. Count sighed. "Oh, c'mon, Tabloid. Lighten up. You'll see her again."

Tabloid scowled, giving Count a sharp look that he wasn't used to seeing. "I should 'lighten up'? Really? Like you wouldn't be upset if Trigger ran off on her own like this."

Count gave Tabloid a look of warning. "First off, Avril isn't alone. As much as I hate saying it, she's got Bandog. Guy may be an asshole, but he's got it too good to screw things up now," he said, hating that he was actually defending Bandog of all people. Truth was, he actually didn't care much what happened to Bandog, but if it gave him an argument then he was going to use it. "And second, Trigger's always running headfirst into danger. As much as it may scare me, I've learned that she's going to do what she wants to do and there's nothing _I_ can say to stop her. Avril is the same way. So just accept it. Women are stubborn, and that's all there is to it."

"Pfft. Easier said than done," Tabloid answered, taking off his own gloves and flexing his hand.

"I don't know why you're acting so upset. It's not like she's your girlfriend or something," Count said nervously, already knowing it wasn't the best thing he could say right now. Still, Tabloid was fond of reality checks and had given Count more than one. If anything, he was just returning the favor.

Tabloid looked up from his hand sharply but suddenly he let out a sigh and his expression softened into a more saddened one. "Yeah. I know. That doesn't change that she's my friend, though. I know she can handle herself, but...it just doesn't feel right without her here," he said. Suddenly, he let out a dry chuckle. "How'd things get so complicated? I mean, I hate to admit it, but it was kinda easier when we were just bait. At least then we were all together."

"I know." Count took a deep breath and took a couple of steps toward Tabloid, placing his hand on Tabloid's shoulder in a comforting gesture. He tried for a reassuring smile. "Come on, don't get all down like you were the other day, Tabloid. We'll be back together and Avril'll be throwing things and cussing everyone out. Thing's'll get back to normal like that." Count snapped his fingers for emphasis and Tabloid actually perked up and gave a real, grateful smile.

"Heh...yeah, I guess you're right, Count." Tabloid shrugged and scratched the back of his neck, looking a tad embarrassed. His smile seemed to grow a little, though.

"Eh, forget about it. I just want that stupid grin of yours back. Someone's gotta be positive around here, and I'd hate for it to have to be me," Count said with mock disgust. He gave Tabloid a pat on the shoulder before pulling back, partially shoved away by Tabloid with a laugh. He took a deep breath, managing to keep from laughing, and tried to look for more work to do. A realization set in. "I don't think there's anything else we're gonna be able to move by hand. Everything else will have to be tied to a jeep or truck or something and pulled outta here." He looked over to where Trigger was helping Fencer and called out to her, "Yo, Trig! Any idea how much longer we've got?"

As Trigger and Fencer reached the pile, dropping the chunk of scrap. Trigger paused to think for a moment and looked around before she took a few steps toward him. "Honestly? We can't move any more of this by hand," she admitted, removing a glove and running a hand through her hair to brush some loose strands out of her face. "Eh. I say we stop and take a break unless Major Grimm and Wiseman have something else in mind for us."

Count felt a pang of annoyance at the mention of Wiseman. "Trust me, they'll find something," he said, crossing his arms. "I guarantee it."

"Maybe not. I know that journalist guy has been going around and interviewing everyone. He might stick you with him," Fencer said with a smile. He furrowed his brow suddenly. "Say, I can't remember if he talked to you yet or not. Has he?"

"No, he hasn't," Count replied, frowning a bit. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be interviewed or not. Sure, everyone thought he was a glory hound, but for once he didn't want anyone making a big fuss. Or worse, not even acknowledging his efforts at all. They'd either be sugarcoating his job or they'd just ask him a million questions about Trigger. He wasn't denying that Trigger was a great pilot, but she'd be the first to point out that this wasn't a one man job. He shrugged. "It's no big deal. Only people they're really looking to hear from are Trigger and Wiseman. Most of the others will probably be cut down or out completely."

"I guess you're right, but it's still an exciting thing, don't you think? I mean, the fact that he's writing a story about us, I mean...the entire country will know about what we've done. It feels pretty undeserved, honestly, but Wiseman thinks the world deserves to know to some level," Trigger said. There was a weird look of excitement and uncertainty in her eyes, but Count found that he actually agreed with her. It did feel a little undeserved, but they did deserve some credit once in a while. They didn't stay on the subject for much longer, as Trigger's eyes suddenly flicked towards the space behind them and she gave a smile and nodded. "Speaking of Wiseman, here he comes."

"Yeah. Right on time to ruin my day," Count said with a scoff, earning him an exasperated look from Fencer and a reassuring rub on the arm from Trigger. He sighed and relaxed a bit when he felt her hand on his arm, but just as soon as she had put it there, she pulled it back but stayed by his side. She may not have shared his opinion on Wiseman, but she did seem to understand where he was coming from. Or at the very least not give him a hard time about it like almost everyone else did.

Wiseman approached them with a friendly smile on his face, pausing briefly to greet the marines that had finished up, before he continued towards them. He took a look around at what they'd accomplished and nodded with an almost impressed look on his face. "Hey, you all did a pretty good job," he said to them with a light chuckle, skipping the usual greetings he could have used. "Major Grimm will be happy to hear it. I think some of the new units that arrived today are supposed to finish up with the rest, so you're all free to go if you'd like. I just finished telling the rest of the guys."

"Yes!" Trigger gave a quiet cheer, laughing. She relaxed her posture a bit and tugged at the hem of her t-shirt, having tied the upper half of her flight suit around her waist. She grimaced a little. "I'm ready to take a long shower...finally get all this gunk off of me."

Count raised an eyebrow and looked her up and down, smirking a little at the comment although she didn't notice. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, looking over as Wiseman started talking again. "Well, we've got a briefing tomorrow afternoon, so if you want any free time, now's the time to get it. We're making our move on Farbanti on the 19th," Wiseman said to them, and all four of them exchanged an excited look. Count tried to keep his under control, especially once Wiseman singled him out of the group. "Oh, and Count? I was hoping I could talk to you for a few minutes. You got the time?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," Count said, not sure why Wiseman would want to talk to him. He looked to Trigger, who's only response was shrugging at him. Lot of help she was. He reluctantly followed Wiseman out to the middle of the runway, looking towards the open hangars where he could spot all of their planes parked. Count was itching to fly again, but he had to get through this first. He and Wiseman came to a stop and Count looked over at his company commander. "Is there something wrong, sir?"

Wiseman gave him a smile, turning slightly to look at him. "No, it's nothing like that. You don't have to look so worried. You're not in trouble, Count. Quite the opposite actually."

Count blinked in surprise. "What?"

For some reason, Wiseman found his reaction amusing, and the friendly smile widened a bit. "I wanted to compliment your performance during the last few missions. You did pretty good out there. Compared to when you first transferred, I have to say that you've improved quite a bit."

Count couldn't help but give a dry laugh, trying to play the compliment off as cool as possible. He actually didn't really think he'd done anything different. He flew like he always had, only difference was that Trigger let him off the damn leash. "Ah, I didn't improve," he said with a shrug. Smugly, he tilted his head back slightly and his smirk returned. "You merely opened your eyes up to my talent."

"Hehe. Maybe so." Wiseman didn't react at all like Count had expected, and the smug expression fell and turned to one of mild annoyance. What happened to this guy? Usually he jumped on the opportunity to knock Count down a peg, but now he was actually allowing him to joke like that? Count started to say something, opening his mouth, but Wiseman started talking before he could. "After what happened over Anchorhead Bay, I think I can safely say that I'm pretty impressed. Hell, the way you stood your ground against those mercenaries, I think I'd even say I'm proud of you."

That took Count completely off guard. He never expected to hear that, let alone from out of Wiseman's mouth. Count stumbled over his own words for a bit, completely taken aback. "Yeah, well, I couldn't just leave Trigger on her own like that to steal all the glory. Besides, I'd have never heard the end of it from you."

"That's true," Wiseman said, his eyes shining with amusement as he fought off a laugh. It seemed he was trying to stay a bit more serious than usual. "Your dedication to Trigger when you were flying as her number two was admirable." He turned around so that he was facing Count, but he looked over at where Trigger was talking to Tabloid and Fencer. He nodded very slowly. "You two make a really good team."

Count followed Wiseman's gaze. "Yeah," he said slowly. Trigger laughed at something that Fencer said and Count couldn't help but smile himself when he saw that grin of hers. He could imagine her eyes lighting up like they always did. He let out a breathy chuckle and looked back at Wiseman. "Yeah, I guess we do."

"I think I can safely say that I'm gonna enjoy having you back in Cyclops," Wiseman said, raising one eyebrow and giving Count an almost knowing look. Count looked away from Trigger and the others and back at Wiseman, internally groaning at the mention of flying with Cyclops again. He didn't say anything, though, seeing no point in wasting his breath. Wiseman smiled and clapped Count on the shoulder. "Can't think of anyone better to have my back out there. You're alright, Count."

He was too stunned by Wiseman's change in demeanor towards him to say much. "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

Wiseman chuckled and actually gave the side of Count's head a playful shove, almost in a way that reminded Count of a parent or something. "Well, I've gotta go and talk to Hawkins to make some last second decisions. I'll see y'all around, okay?" With one last pat on Count's shoulder, he turned and walked away, leaving Count to watch him leave. He wasn't sure what to feel about the brief conversation. Wiseman had always been hard on him, and he kind of returned the favor. But now he wasn't sure what to think.

Letting out a deep breath, he made his way back over to Trigger, actually finding himself smiling a bit when he thought back to what Wiseman had said. In fact, he actually wanted to laugh a bit. When Trigger saw the look on his face, she looked surprised. "Well, you're in a better mood all of the sudden," she said to him in a slightly teasing way, elbowing him gently. "I thought you couldn't stand Wiseman?"

Count ran a hand through his hair and gave an almost sheepish smile. "Eh. I'm starting to think you've all had a point this whole time," he said, looking over his shoulder and shrugging. He actually hadn't been too bothered by Wiseman during the last few days, and if anything he was actually starting to like the guy. Hopefully flying under him wouldn't be as bad as it had been, now that Wiseman trusted him a bit more. He knew deep down not to get his hopes up, though. At last, he looked back at Trigger and chuckled. "He's not so bad."

* * *

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
**1800hrs.**

After Sol Squadron intercepted the Osean fighters the day before, it had been all that Mihaly could think about. Among the aces he'd seen footage of, the fighting style resembled one of them, but Mihaly couldn't put his finger on who. However, the fight had been a disappointing and anti-climactic one. The pilot made slow and lazy movements and Mihaly hadn't got any sort of thrill from the fight. They may have held their own for some time, but compared to Three Strikes they left much to be desired. Mihaly could barely believe they passed training like that. Ridiculous that Osea was so lame without any sort of ace fighting for them. Erusea was at least competent.

"General?" Mihaly brought his gaze down from the sky to see Schroeder standing over him, a tablet and chart tucked under his arm. Adjusting his glasses, he went straight to the point. "I need to compare the flight data from your last dogfight, sir. I'm sure you know the drill by now."

"Of course. I'll be along in a minute." Mihaly nodded, leaning forward slightly in his seat, willing Schroeder to walk into the hangar and wait for him instead of standing there watching. He felt like he was on display, and he didn't want anyone to know just how badly the fight had affected him. The suit hadn't held up like it should have, and with every high-G turn he had made it felt like one painful hit after another. He could hardly breathe, let alone walk, but he'd sucked the pain up just so his granddaughter wouldn't make such a big deal of it. When Schroeder didn't move, Mihaly gave him a stern look. He repeated, "I'll be along in a minute."

Schroeder seemed to take the hint, shoving his free hand into his pocket like he always seemed to do. "Sorry to bother you, sir. Take your time. I'm certainly in no rush." With that, he finally turned away and walked back inside the hangar. Something about Schroeder's comment struck Mihaly as cleverly disguised sarcasm, something he was more or less used to given his squadron and young grandchildren. It only slightly bothered him. Besides, Schroeder wasn't usually one for any sort of joking or sarcasm. He was far too clinical for that, which is why Mihaly doubted the remark was actually such.

Checking to make sure that no one was around, Mihaly forced himself onto his feet. It was one swift movement, and just as quickly as he'd gotten to his feet, his muscles began to ache. His knees buckled and an unfortunately timed cough caused him to nearly fall over. Fortunately, he was fast enough to place an arm on the chair and support himself that way, clutching his stomach with his other arm as he let out a strangled, rough cough. A cough that burned his throat and lungs. His legs trembled and ached as he put weight onto them again, his arm threatening to give out just as his legs had.

_Curse my body for letting me down like this_. Mihaly gritted his teeth and stopped his coughing, clearing his throat to ease what was left of the burning sensation. His mouth tasted faintly of metal, but he chose to ignore that. It was nothing and only a coward would worry about such a thing. Or let it stop him. Although every single joint and muscle protested against his movement, Mihaly took a shaky step and then straightened himself up. He stood still for a moment, then stretched, and once his body and mind understood that they would have to work, they offered him no more complaints.

He entered the hangar as though nothing had happened outside, and took a look around the hangar. Schroeder was putting something into his computers while his two assistants made some last minute checks to Mihaly's Su-30SM. Several cables ran from various spots on the aircraft and all connected to one of Schroeder's many computers. Mihaly already knew where he had to go, so he didn't bother with any questions. He just wanted to get this part over with so that he could go back to his thoughts. As he approached his plane, Schroeder's assistants gave respectful nods and hurried off to help Schroeder without a word.

Mihaly, with stiff movements, pulled himself up the ladder and dropped into the cockpit of his fighter. In place of the helmet he usually wore, this was a special helmet designed specially by the other scientists that worked with Gründer Industries and the EASA. It recorded his body's movements during a fight, monitoring his brain's activity and his vitals in more detail than the G-suit did. The visor also acted as a virtual reality type device, at least that was what Schroeder said. Mihaly barely understood most of it. All he knew was that it played a recording of his heads-up display during specific fights and he had to mimic the movements he made during the dogfight. Like a simulation, only arguably more difficult to follow.

Once he had strapped himself in, Schroeder called out to him from where he stood, his voice loud enough for Mihaly to hear clearly. "I'm going to run the footage in about a minute, so I'll let you know when. It's from your last dogfight, since I feel like that's taken a greater toll on you than our previous training exercises," Schroeder explained as though it wasn't obvious. Mihaly sat through it, though, keeping a blank expression. Schroeder continued, a bit hesitantly. "If we get the necessary results, you'll probably be able to test out the newer suit. That's the general idea, anyways."

"Let's get this over and done with, then," Mihaly said flatly and with little interest. "I see no point in doing nothing but sitting here."

Schroeder nodded and without argument he pressed a few buttons on his keyboard, and something on his touch screen tablet. When he was done, he looked back up towards Mihaly. "It's loading."

Within a few minutes, the helmet was calibrated and synced up. Mihaly checked his range of movement and coordination and everything was normal, if not a little slower than usual. From there, what he had to do was easy. The visor on the helmet showed the recording that had been made during the fight, courtesy of his computer 'co-pilot' (that Mihaly didn't think did anything useful like a real WSO did), COPRO. Mihaly began to copy the movements he made during the fight, every single movement that he could remember and that was showed. He recalled how stubborn the enemy had been, still barely anything compared to Three Strikes but enough to give him a difficult time.

Although he was able to copy his movements, he had more difficulty the second time around. Even without the pressure from the G-force, his body still ached and protested with everything he did. Every time he moved a certain way, he gritted his teeth and tensed, which only worsened the pain. He felt relief when the 'fight' was finally over and everything was shut down. Mihaly was shaking at this point, struggling slightly to unhook everything and tossing it aside with frustration towards his own body. As he began to climb down from the cockpit, the younger of Schroeder's assistants (Simon, if Mihaly recalled correctly) moved to help him, but Mihaly waved him off. Last thing he needed right then was to be treated like a helpless cripple.

He managed to bring himself around his plane once he'd sat down, carefully heading towards where Schroeder was standing. Stifling a cough, he came to a stop and tried to find any sort of emotion on Schroeder's face. Unfortunately, Schroeder kept a blank expression, although his eyes seemed to look Mihaly over almost pityingly. But he knew better than to let Mihaly in on that, if he truly did pity him. "Well?" Mihaly prompted, taking a deep breath to hopefully gather himself. His legs practically threatened to give out underneath him, but he managed to keep himself steady. In pain, yes, but steady.

Schroeder took a moment, thoughtfully looking between what was on his computers and then up towards Mihaly's plane. "I don't think the suit would hold up effectively in another dogfight," he said soon after that, turning towards the container the newest G-suit was packed away in. "It would be best if you took the upgrade. We can try some test flights to—"

"No," Mihaly interrupted him, causing Schroeder to turn suddenly with a surprised look on his face. Mihaly continued. "No mock battles. I need to save it for the real thing. Our time is limited, and I can't afford to sit and wait for a new suit to come in once we wear this one down. Have it ready and waiting. When the time comes, we'll see if it holds up. If not, then at least I won't be going down without a fight."

It looked as though Schroeder started to say something, possibly to protest, but something caught his attention and he turned towards the hangar doors with an almost guilty expression. Mihaly followed his gaze, finding Ionela and Alma standing in the doorway. Alma looked almost apathetic, as though she was already expecting a fight to break out. Ionela, on the other hand, looked between Mihaly and Schroeder with a murderous glare. Unlike Schroeder, Mihaly wasn't about to be intimidated by a child, and he scowled with disapproval that rivaled Ionela's. Nobody said a word for several seconds.

"Is there something you need, child?" Mihaly asked her at last, briefly wondering just how long she'd been standing there.

She looked between the two of them before slowly answering. "No. Alma and I just needed the fresh air." Keeping her voice steady, she looked to Mihaly's plane and then continued speaking, trying to avoid looking at him, it would seem. "I take it things are going...well."

"Yes. Yes, they are. In fact, if things continue this way, Erusea will no doubt win the war," Mihaly answered, shooting for optimism but likely sounding a bit cocky in the eyes of some. In fact, he was starting to sound too much like Wit and Seymour. Noting the somewhat doubtful and depressed look on Ionela's face, Mihaly added in a slightly softer tone, "So, there's no reason for you to be so worried. I fully trust that Schroeder has done everything he can to ensure that this suit, unlike the others, won't fail."

Ionela's expression flickered with mistrust and disapproval as she turned her sharp gaze onto Schroeder, but it softened slightly and she looked back at Mihaly. For a moment, he wasn't sure if she was going to try and start another childish argument with him, and it seemed that Alma was bracing herself for just that. But to his surprise, a ghost of a smile appeared on her face. "I suppose you're right," she said, almost shocking him. She blinked, looking as though she was struggling to hold the expression. The faint smile faded and her lips formed nothing but a thin line as she searched for something else to say. "Still, you can never be too careful. I don't think Osea is going to be going easy, and we all saw what Three Strikes did to that submarine. What do you think is going to happen to anything or anyone else that tries to stand in her way?"

Mihaly resisted the urge to scoff. "Three Strikes may be skilled, but it's obvious she lacks proper control and discipline. I, however, am a seasoned pilot. We've been over this time and time again. The next time I face Three Strikes, I'm settling the score." The angered expression came back and Ionela was about to challenge her, but he cut her off. "And if you're naive enough to buy into the fear that the rest of Erusea has been spreading around then you're weaker willed and far more immature than I believed."

"I've said it once and I'll say it a million times over if that's what it takes to get it through your head: you're going to take this too far and you're going to get yourself killed," Ionela growled at him, clenching her fists. She looked accusingly over at Schroeder, raising her voice slightly. "And you're doing nothing but enabling him. You're both fools!"

"Ionela!" Mihaly snapped at her, using a tone he'd rarely ever taken with her. It caused Alma to flinch and Ionela to freeze, looking towards him as if silently challenging him to go on. _Defiant child_. At least he had her attention. He kept his voice stern as he spoke again. "You doubt me. I know you do. But I'm going to defeat Three Strikes and I'm going to finish what I started. I can promise you that much. But if you don't like that, then it's too bad. It's about time you grow up."

If she wanted to say anything to that, she didn't. Schroeder's assistant, Massa, approached the girls with a sympathetic look and said something to Ionela before ushering the two of them away. Once they were gone, Mihaly shook his head and Schroeder looked down at his feet. "I can't tell if she's angrier with you or me," he said, taking his glasses off to wipe the lenses. He slowly put them back on. "She resents this entire war, doesn't she?"

"I'd be lying if I said she's ever had decent stability in her life. Ionela's almost always been taking care of everyone else, be it her mother or sister or even me," Mihaly answered, watching as the three girls disappeared from sight. He turned his attention to the dark blue sky overhead, picking out a few stars. "Perhaps she has a point, but she's far too ignorant about wars to have any real understanding about why I have to fight. Or why I want to fight."

"Why _are_ you so insistent to keep fighting?" Schroeder asked, trying to hide the curiosity in his voice. His tone was almost as challenging as Ionela's, in Mihaly's opinion. "Especially when there's obviously so much at stake."

Mihaly let out a dry chuckle, but he didn't answer Schroeder. Instead he decided to take his leave, wanting to be back with his own thoughts. There _was_ a lot at stake, and he could see that as much as anyone else. But when you've lost as much as Mihaly, when there's almost nothing left for you but the freedom of the skies, and when that freedom is threatened...you do what you've always done. You fight. And you make sure that, if any day could be your last, you go down with honor. If Mihaly was left with no choice but to waste away on the ground or to die in the skies, then he was going to go with the second option.

_I didn't come this far to give up. I'm not about to now_.

* * *

**Oured, Osea.**  
_**September 18th, 2019.**_  
**0800hrs.**

David North sat in his apartment, drumming his fingers impatiently as he waited for his report to copy so he could finally get it sent in. Running on nothing but coffee and caffeinated tea for the last few days with minimal sleep had meant that he was now incapable of sitting still. It had been useful when he needed to type things, as it was productive, but now it was nothing more than pointless and frustrating fidgeting. It didn't help that his superiors had already planned out more work with him once he was finished up with the _Alicorn_ report. He wished he was still working with the LRSSG, but if the rumor was true they were well on their way to the capital, as their original path had dictated. At least their work had a more exciting outcome.

A cool, early morning breeze blew in through his open window. Birds were singing and people were out walking and laughing and talking. Cars drove past and there was your usual morning, city traffic. David spared a moment to look out at the city around his apartment and managed a small smile. Hard to think that just a few days before, all of this was nearly wiped out. Everything felt like it was back to normal, but there was that pessimistic voice in the back of David's mind that reminded him that there was still a war raging just a continent over. Things weren't perfect yet, but he did have faith in Three Strikes. There was no doubt in his mind that she and Wiseman would lead Osea to victory.

Checking the status of his file, only at 60%, he turned towards the still ongoing game of chess he had set up. He hadn't had the time to finish it up, so he looked for a way to win the game for his preferred side. The side he'd used to represent Osea in his mental war game. That's really all chess was to begin with. As he reached forward to move one of the pieces, he jumped in his seat suddenly as an alarm that Alex had set for him went off. It took him a moment but he turned back to his computer and dismissed it, embarrassed that he'd been so startled when it was nothing.

"I'm good, Alex," he said with a relieved sigh, the chat between him and the AI popping up on screen. "I won't need that wake-up call every two hours anymore." Moving another file over to copy it down, he recalled what his superior had said to him over the phone and he couldn't help but mock the guy and rant to Alex. "I can't believe some of these guys...'David, only the summary is fine. Give me the report ASAP. I'll hand it to the president...'" David scoffed, scrolling through Alex's chat box to see just how far back the messages went. "Of course, that's why I haven't slept in the last like..._eighty hours_."

"74 hours and 52 minutes," Alex corrected with a chime, obviously not finished sassing him.

David rolled his eyes. _Brat, _he thought, but didn't voice this to her. "Okay..." he said, leaning back again with a groan. After a couple more minutes, all of the files were copied over to his hard-drive, but he still had some final additions to it. "Well, I'm almost done. Now, to the conclusion..." David spoke his thoughts aloud for Alex to hear, scrolling through his report and skimming it for any errors he'd made. When he found none, he decided to finish up. "Assuming Three Strikes is a singularity, why not terminate her?"

Unfortunately for Captain Foulke, many of those highest up the chain of command considered her a danger. A loose cannon. General Perrault in particular thought it was better to monitor her closely, and when word of what Brigadier General Clemens had done spread around, it caused some doubts. Many believed that — while he had betrayed his country and gone about it the wrong way — he had the right idea going. Some believed they should conduct a longer, more extensive trial for Foulke once the war ended, while others truly believed she was innocent and an asset to their military. So David had been given the extra task of reassuring the president that the captain truly was an important piece of a very large puzzle.

So he'd given Alex some work to do while he was busy writing. "There is a fact that has been observed in all of the missions Three Strikes has taken part in," she spoke at last, displaying the window for the simulation they'd put together. Several operations were listed, including ones that Three Strikes did not participate in. Each operation had a name, date, location, whether Captain Foulke participated, and the attrition rate during the operation. For emphasis, Alex had added several blue arrow heads to represent aircraft in a way that resembled the LRSSG's briefing screen, and during specific operations one or two would come to a halt instead of gliding on and would be x-ed out.

"And what's that?" David asked in response to her statement.

"All dependent elements that either mimic or follow the subject have increased chances of survival," Alex continued, as only three blue arrowheads remained at this point. They slowed down and maneuvered around one another like fighter jets would, allowing a green arrowhead to slip between them and take the lead. David assumed that this arrowhead was meant to represent Trigger, and the other three were her wingmates in Strider.

But he wasn't totally satisfied with the answer. He gave a small smile. "Try to be more sensuous," David reminded her.

The flight of the arrowheads returned to normal, Three Strikes gliding farther and faster as the blue ones were quick to follow. Alex's simulation showed the four arrowheads climbing higher into the 'sky', Trigger still showing the way, and the three blue arrowheads followed in perfect formation before more blue arrowheads appeared, joining the climb. The shape Alex had chose to put them in reminded David vaguely of the space elevator, though it was nothing more than a clever coincidence. Alex went on. "Go Trigger's way, you'll make it. She leads the way."

"Really?" David asked her, his smile widening a bit, though he furrowed his brow thoughtfully.

"Significance is high," Alex confirmed without missing a beat.

David closed the window with the simulation and stared at the photo he had of the scratches on the tail of Captain Foulke's plane. The Three Strikes that gave her that nickname to begin with. He stared at it for a moment, thinking. That did seem to be how the others viewed her, and David had no doubt that this would help in changing General Perrault's mind, as well as the others. It didn't worry him too much. Even if this didn't convince them, Three Strikes wasn't one to go down without a fight. And he knew that her wingmen wouldn't let anything happen to her, either. That loyalty and trust went both ways for them, something David had seen firsthand.

His smile turned to a grin and he gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head and turning his attention back to Alex. "You know, that's uncharacteristically illogical of you," he said in a teasing voice.

"Hehehe," came Alex's monotone laughter.

It caused David to let out a laugh of his own, almost feeling bad for her. "Is that _really_ how you laugh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I think we're gonna have to work on that later."

To his surprise, Alex had nothing smart to say to that. Hopefully he wouldn't get much backtalk from her in the near future, not when they still had work to do. He took one last sip of his drink and set the mug down, tapping a finger on it absentmindedly before he let out a soft sigh and wrapped up his report. Once everything was finished and were almost finished copying over, David turned his chair towards his chess board and decided that he may as well wrap up his game while he waited.

He reached for the white piece that he'd dubbed as Three Strikes, bringing it towards him and rolling it in his hands a couple of times to look it over. It was the Queen, a piece you could see as the protector of the King, and an important piece on the board. An instant advantage, but one that few chose to risk. David chuckled, finding his symbolism predictable but fitting. In a few swift movements, he finished the game, placing the queen down in perfect attack position. The black king didn't even stand a chance. His grin from earlier returned. "Haha! Checkmate! And to think you said I'd never finish it."

"Congratulations." Alex didn't share in his enthusiasm, not that he expected her to.

David didn't let her bad mood sour his victory, though. He went ahead and put the pieces back in their proper places, resetting the board should he ever decide to play again in the near future. At last, the files finished, so he double-checked everything on his computer to make sure it was all saved before getting up from his seat. "Well, Alex, I'm gonna get some sleep while I can," he said as he rose to his feet, stretching for the first time in about twelve hours. "God, it feels so good to finally be out of that chair!"

He made his way over to his apartment window to shut it, pausing a moment to take in the view of the city below. Everything had a bright, gold shine to it, courtesy of the morning sun that continued to rise. David smiled fondly, vowing never again to take a morning like this for granted. Reluctantly, he slid his window shut and locked it, leaving the blinds open, and headed over to his computer, talking to Alex the whole way. "I'd get a break while you can. Can't believe they expect me to keep working, even after this."

Checking the time once more, he quickly tidied up his work area so he wouldn't have to later. "We got some new intel on Justice and they want me to go over the weaponry on the Arsenal Bird. Apparently they're worried Erusea made more modifications. Or they want me to keep investigating those Helios missiles." He scratched the side of his head and gave a frustrated huff. "Honestly, who even knows at this point. Nothing's ever gonna compare to these last few weeks..."

David looked down at the photo he had one last time. He'd never be able to repay the LRSSG for everything they'd done, but he hoped one day that he could try. _Go Trigger's way, you'll make it_. Satisfied with the conclusion, he closed the window with the picture and began to shut everything down. He cut off his desk lamp, his living room-office area now lit with nothing but natural light, and turned to walk away. As he reached his bedroom door, he called across the room, "Goodnight, Alex."

"Goodnight, David." With that, the chat closed, and his computer finished shutting down.

_Well, back to the boring stuff_. With that, David shut his bedroom door. Better to get some sleep while he could. Once he was well rested, then Perrault would get his report, but until then, it was his turn to take it easy.

* * *

**Cape Rainy Air Base, Erusea.**  
**1300hrs.**

They were asked to report to the briefing early in the afternoon. The marines took over the heavy lifting, managing to hook up most of the heavier, immovable debris and drag it out with whatever trucks they brought with them. Or take the more theatrical route and airlift the damn things out. It made what Naomi and the others had gotten done look rather unimportant, even if they had done the bare minimum. Even so, Naomi's shoulders and arms were a bit sore from having to drag that crap around. Reminded her way too much of cleanup at Zapland. But that didn't matter, now. Not when they were this close to Farbanti.

When they entered the briefing room, Naomi could notice some changes that had been made to make the Erusean base seem more Osean. They'd already replaced the Erusean flag in the mess hall with an Osean one, and now it looked as though they'd rearranged the briefing room. Actually, most of the base had been fixed up. Osean soldiers were around, already falling into a normal work schedule in their new home. But the Erusean base was looking more and more like New Arrows, though chances were the base would probably be returned once the war was over.

Either way, the screen in the briefing room had been connected to Osea's system, now proudly displaying the LRSSG's emblem alongside their squadron emblems. The whiteboard had been cleared off now that they no longer had use for it. At the front of the room, Wiseman, Long Caster, and Hawkins were speaking with one another, beside the screen. Nearby, Naomi's father was speaking with Genette, Tailor, and Major Grimm. It took Naomi a moment to remember that Tailor and Grimm were cousins, but when Grimm playfully tousled Tailor's hair, she remembered rather quickly.

Several of Grimm's soldiers had already taken their seats towards the back of the room, so Naomi and the others picked out their own seats at the front like always. Lanza and Skald sat down beside one another, and Jaeger sat beside them. Fencer sat by Jaeger, leaving a seat open on his other side for Tailor to sit down at. Naomi sat down between Count and Tabloid as usual, with Húxiān sitting beside Count. Wiseman and the others acknowledged them with a nod shortly before Grimm sent Tailor over to them and joined in on the conversation between Wiseman and the others. Genette and Naomi's father followed him, sitting down beside Tabloid.

While they waited, everyone began their own conversations. Naomi noticed that Húxiān was rather quiet, and she seemed to have an uneasy look on her face. She leaned forward so she could see her friend more clearly, prompting Count to press back slightly and give the two of them a curious look. "Hey, Húxiān?" Naomi asked, getting her attention. "Is there something wrong? You've been kinda quiet these last few days, and now you look...kinda sick."

Húxiān squirmed in her seat, looking more uncomfortable now that Naomi had asked about it. Now Count and Tabloid had taken notice and were waiting for her answer. She frowned and reluctantly offered one. "It's nothing. I've just got a bad feeling, y'know? Like something isn't right." Húxiān chuckled awkwardly when no one said anything right away. "It's stupid, I know, but I can't help but feeling like we've just sent Bandog and Avril off into a death sentence. And then with this upcoming operation in Farbanti...I don't know. It all just rubs me the wrong way."

Count scoffed, a small smirk on his face as usual. "You women worry too much," he said, seeming amused by Húxiān's concern. "There's no way Erusea is gonna be able to hold us off for much longer. Once their capital falls, this whole damned war is ours. You watch. This'll all be over by next week, then Avril and Bandog will both be back safe and sound. I don't even get why you're so worried about the guy, Húxiān. I know I'm not."

"He ain't the easiest person to get along with, but he's a better man than you give him credit for," Húxiān said defensively, crossing her arms. She gave him a cold look. "A lot better than you, that's for sure."

"You shouldn't be so cocky, Count," Tabloid added in a far nicer tone than Húxiān had been using. "We don't want to jinx it, and knowing our luck...well, let's just say that Húxiān makes a fair point. Things can change in an instant."

"He's right, Count. I think I'm gonna have to take their side this time," Naomi said, patting his shoulder and giving him a sympathetic smile. She struggled with over confidence more often than not, but she had to play the level-headed leader once in a while. Otherwise she might make Wiseman second guess his decision to put her in charge of Strider...again. Usually she might have agreed with Count, but he was getting a bit too cocky, even for him.

"Whatever you guys say," Count said, rolling his eyes. "I'm just ready for this mission to be over already. I'm dying for a break."

To everyone's surprise, Tailor joined the conversation. He sat with a saddened look on his face, even though he wouldn't be taking part in the operation. "I know what you're saying. Even if this was the plan from the start, I can't help but wish there was another way."

Jaeger joined in. "You're telling me. Farbanti is a very beautiful city, though it's been through so much in the last few years. An entire district was sunken in an asteroid hit, not to mention they still have some damage from the last war they went through. Other than that, it's truly an amazing place. It's a shame that we have to take it like this, though I can't say that Erusea hasn't forced our hand. If their generals weren't so stubborn, negotiations might have gone much better."

"I think Tailor's just worried about that crush of his," Fencer said, elbowing him playfully. Tailor sent him a dirty look, but for once Fencer didn't continue harassing him. "Relax, kid. I'm pretty sure that they've evacuated the city, and the princess along with it. There's no reason to put people with no involvement in the fighting in danger. Even the idiots that run Erusea's government could see that."

"I'm not worried about that. I know they probably evacuated everyone that they could, and women and children are always the first to go," Tailor said, adjusting himself in his seat with a somewhat annoyed look on his face. "Still, we all know that the people of Erusea have a stubborn streak. Maybe it's just a stereotype, but most of these people have probably been through far worse than this. They're not likely to just run away. Not without putting up a fight."

"I'm pretty sure they've learned from past experiences by now. They may put up a fight, but they won't risk their own lives if they know there's no chance," Skald spoke up, a small smile on his face as he made an attempt to put Tailor's mind at ease. "Nobody would be foolish enough to do that."

"He's right. Everyone that isn't military is probably long gone from the capital at this point. There's nothing to be worried about," Lanza put in. Although everyone else seemed to agree with him, Naomi still couldn't shake a bit of concern for anybody that wasn't involved in the fighting. Assuming some people didn't evacuate, they ran the risk of getting caught in the crossfires. And assuming they did, which was the most likely, the chances they'd have much of a home left to return to once this was all over weren't looking very good. No one else seemed worried, aside from Tabloid, but if they were then they hid it very well.

Their conversation was cut short as the screen now displayed the map they were so used to seeing. It was Wiseman that got their attention first, raising his voice slightly to sound more commanding than usual. "Alright, everyone. Settle down and listen up! I'm sure you all know what this is about by now, but just in case you're unaware, our operation to capture the Erusean capital of Farbanti is going underway. Osean forces are getting into position tonight, and the attack will begin tomorrow. We'll be moving to an IUN base near the edge of Erusean territory and joining shortly after the operation commences."

"This is the culmination of all of your hard work," Hawkins said, stepping in. The screen centered on Farbanti, showing several different directions that Osea would be attacking from. Hawkins stepped up to the screen, pointing them out and tracing along each line. "We need to capture the Erusean Force's General Headquarters in the south of Farbanti to end this war. Many of their higher ranking officers and even the King are remaining in the capital and giving instructions to their forces. If we can, we want to gain as much leverage in negotiations as possible and capture whoever we can. Realistically, it won't be an easy task, but that's up to our ground forces, which will be led by Major Grimm. I believe many of you are familiar with him already. Jacob?"

Grimm nodded as he was addressed by Hawkins, stepping forward. "The plan is for ground troops to attack Farbanti from both east and north, and a task fleet will attack from the southwest. Our intel leads us to believe that Erusea is positioning their military around the sunken district and outside of their shipyard, directly along the coast. Recon photos show that they've set up anti-air weaponry on top of buildings downtown and hidden throughout the rest of the city, so everyone will need to keep a sharp eye out. My men and I are going to try and take out what we can, but we'll have other priorities as well."

It was Wiseman that spoke up next, several blue and red arrowheads appearing on the screen. "Our job will be to secure air superiority over the capital, while simultaneously providing air support for our allies on the ground as well as in the water as required. By all accounts, we're expecting this to be an intense full-scale battle across land, air, and sea," he said to them as a grid of the area of operations was now shown, the line to the north highlighted with blue as the screen rotated around to it. Wiseman was quick to point this out to them, though they already knew what it was. "Because of the scale of the operation, we've set up a return line for you to make good use of and resupply, as well as get any necessary, quick repairs done."

"Another thing...during this operation, we will also be tasked with having to destroy the communications satellites that Erusea hacked when the war started," Hawkins added quickly, nodding to Long Caster. The screen zoomed out to show the entire Usean continent, showing the orbit of the hacked satellites as well as the ones Osea still had control over.

A few of them muttered something to one another about that, but it was Tabloid that broke the silence. "It's taken you guys this long to get around to that? We've made it this far, what good is it going to accomplish now?"

Although Tabloid's tone indicated a mild challenge with his words, Hawkins gave a short nod and explained without any hesitation. "If we take down the information communication system that we believe Erusea has taken control over, it _should_ plunge Erusea into chaos. Once the capital falls, the Erusean military will be isolated and confused, stuck directly in the center of that chaos, making it easier for us to end the war." Hawkins sighed as he looked over the map. "That's the idea, anyways."

"However, that can't happen until after the capital falls. So we're gonna be the stars of this battle," Wiseman said, a small smile on his face. His eyes had a spark in them, one that told Naomi he was itching to get back in the action, having sat so many operations out.

"Erusea will fight like a tiger, but we can't lose. We're going to push back twice as hard," Grimm said, looking over the LRSSG pilots as well as his own men. "We're gonna seize the capital, and put an end to this war once and for all."

This prompted several shouts and whoops of agreement from those sitting in the room, which in turn gave their superiors a reason to smile. When it died down, Hawkins nodded for Long Caster to pull up the roster and he did. "Cyclops, Strider, here's your formation for the op. We're heading out to the IUN base tonight, so everyone be prepared. Good luck out there tomorrow. To all of you."

With a nod to everyone and nothing else to say, Hawkins took his leave. Everyone stood up, stretching and chattering, preparing to leave, but Grimm stopped them all before they had the idea. "Hold on just a moment. There's one more thing I want to tell everyone," he said quickly, looking towards Long Caster and Wiseman. Naomi wondered why Hawkins didn't just stick around and tell them, whatever it was, but Grimm was nice enough to wrap it up quickly. "We checked out the transports that Erusea had here on the base, and it turns out they were carrying weaponry for the remaining Arsenal Bird. Now, I can't say anything for sure, but it looks like burst missiles. Helios missiles, I believe they're called. This means that, knowing Erusea, if all else fails...they're going to bring out that monster. So everyone needs to keep their guard up."

"After we shot that last one to shreds?" Húxiān asked with a scoff. "They'd have to be stupid to send the other one out!"

"Yeah, I agree," Fencer chimed in, a thoughtful look on his face. "There's no way they'd bring the other one in and risk it...even if we did have Stonehenge on our side the last time, that doesn't mean that we can't do some damage to it."

"I'm not saying they're going to send it in. I'm just saying that, from here on out, we should start preparing for everything. Erusea is going to get desperate, and sooner or later, they're going to fight back even harder than they have been. Nobody needs to let their guard down," Grimm said in a serious tone, a stern look on his face. No one argued, as they understood the point he was making. Naomi already figured they'd fight back before long, but they must have been getting that Arsenal Bird ready for some time. They had something planned, even if it wasn't immediate. Grimm cleared his throat. "Anyways, that's all for the rest of you."

With Fencer mumbling something under his breath, they started to head for the door. However, Naomi was stopped, this time by Wiseman calling her back. "Hang on, Trigger. We've got something just for you...and I think you'll find it pretty interesting." Naomi turned to look at him with a confused expression, but she didn't say anything. Count and Tabloid stopped, followed by Jaeger and then the others. When he realized he'd gotten the others attention, he gave a small laugh. "The rest of you can stay as well, if you want to."

"What's this about?" Naomi asked him, crossing the room so she could stand beside him. By now all of Major Grimm's men had cleared out, and it was just the LRSSG pilots, Grimm, Naomi's father, and Genette that remained. She actually felt a bit nervous, sensing a lecture coming for some reason. With Count and the rest of her wingmates staying behind, she couldn't help but fear for the worst. Carefully, she came to a stop in front of her commander and slowly asked, "I'm not in any trouble or something, am I?"

"No, it's nothing like that." It was Long Caster that spoke up, promptly passing a file over to Wiseman. "You remember Mr. X, right?"

This got everyone's attention, and the others quickly chose to stay behind and listen up. Naomi's eyes flicked to her father briefly, nervous and wondering if he knew about this, then she looked back at Wiseman. She hadn't thought about the guy in a while, having more pressing matters to worry about. Not only that, but he'd been staying out of their way. Still, it was hard to forget the guy. She shuddered a bit as she recalled her previous two encounters with him. "Kind of hard not to remember."

Count came up next to her, Tabloid beside him, and he brushed his hand against hers in an almost comforting way. She wanted to grab his hand so she had something to hold onto, both of them knowing how much Mr. X bothered her, but she didn't. And she didn't get a chance to. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, glancing at the file and then at Wiseman. "Yeah, after seeing what that monster did at Yinshi Valley? It's damn near impossible to forget him. Why bring him up now?"

"Well, we went through the files in the Erusean base commander's office and found something on an experimental squadron or something like that," Wiseman explained quickly, looking down at the file. He looked as though he was trying to decide whether or not to open it or not. Or let her do it. His eyes flicked up to her, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, gesturing with the file. "Anyways, we looked through it and even asked the Eruseans about it. Unfortunately, this is all we have, but it's still intriguing. Take a look."

He passed it over to her, and Naomi hesitated before she slowly opened the file, setting it down on the table in the room so the others could take a look if they wanted. It looked to be a very short file, only about five or six pages long. The first page showed a couple of photos with a summary below it. Naomi looked the photo over, and the first image was of five Su-30s lined up on what looked like a makeshift runway set up on...well, Naomi couldn't tell what it was. And that wasn't what she cared about. What she was focused on was the livery of one of the planes, and she could tell that the others recognized these planes as well.

Four of the planes were dark gray with standard Erusean markings. The fifth plane was the same dark gray, but the tail and his wingtips were painted orange. That was, without a doubt, the same plane that she'd fought over Yinshi Valley. The same one that the pilot that killed Brownie had flown. That _was_ Mr. X's plane. Beside the image of the planes, there was a closeup of the emblem clipped to the corner with a paper clip. An odd emblem...it looked like the sun, but one of the weirder depictions of it, shown with a face over it. The squadron name was under it. _68th Experimental Squadron Sol_.

She furrowed her brow and skimmed the rest of the page. "Sol Squadron?" Naomi scoffed, looking up at Wiseman. "They're the ones that have been giving us so much trouble?"

"Yep, that's them alright," Tabloid said, looking down at the photo. He put on a thoughtful expression, placing a finger on the picture over over the dark gray planes and tapping slightly. "I remember those guys. Count and I went up against them...damn, they were good."

"Nothing compared to that Mr. X, but they were close," Count said, reading over the description of the squadron. "They don't have a lot of information on them, do they? 'Formed at the onset of the war to support the EAF's top pilot...highly skilled, specially trained...'" He read some of it aloud, then shook his head, looking up at Wiseman. "Pfft. That's nothing. I could have told you half of that. Don't we have anything on them that we could use to our advantage?"

"Take a look at the other pages," Naomi's father said to them, crossing his arms. Genette was still standing beside him, keeping quiet and listening intently. Her father nodded to urge her to do it, offering a reason for them to as well. "They have the squadron members' ID photos and a photo of all of them together, and a brief assessment of everyone in it, including their leader. Then there's a report about the squadron's capabilities, and a report from some scientist or something, but...most of it was redacted. We could only read a few short sentences mentioning the squadron and G-suits or something like that."

"That's odd," Jaeger said, taking a few steps closer so he could see as well, the others staying quiet and listening. Tabloid took a step back so Jaeger had room, and the older pilot gave him a grateful smile before his expression went serious again. "I heard from some of the marines that the Eruseans we captured the other night were making a fuss about an experimental squadron...if Mr. X is a member of it then I can understand why. Still, you'd think Erusea would keep more intel on them, unless they were worried something like this might happen."

"Wait, don't we have contacts that could get us this intel?" Skald asked suddenly, looking to Wiseman. "Or, at least more of it?"

Lanza put on the same curious expression that his best friend had. "Yeah, he's right. I mean, it can't be that hard to dig up some stuff. Erusea's been doing it for months now."

"If we'd thought to do it sooner, then maybe we could've," Long Caster said with a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair. "But it's too late now. Once we knock out Erusea's satellites, there's no way we can ensure that any information we get from over on their side is truly safe and secure."

"He makes a good point," Húxiān observed with a shrug, seeming rather disinterested in the whole thing. "Besides, what does it matter at this point anyways? It's not like it's gonna do us much good if all of this'll be over in a few days."

Naomi looked up and around at the rest of her wingmen, then back down at the file. She hesitated for just a moment, seeing the point that Húxiān made. But she at least wanted to put a face to whatever monster had gunned down Brownie and Champ and those other LRSSG pilots. Before she could change her mind, she flipped the page and unclipped the photos attached at the top of it. Their names looked to be lined up in the roster on the file, or at least their ranks and last names.

The group photo of the squadron was an interesting one. They stood in front of their planes, but there were six of them in the photo. Five of them were clearly pilots, but the last one was a man in a lab coat. He looked to be a scientist. The pilots in the photo drew her interest quickly once she noticed the patches on their arms. They may be Erusean pilots, but they didn't wear any Erusean patches on their flight suits. The only thing even remotely Erusean was their squadron emblem. Four of the pilots were all clearly much younger than the man that Naomi assumed was their squadron leader. Two had blond hair and bright eyes, though she couldn't tell what color. The others had dark hair, one looking cheerful and the other looking as though he had to force a smile.

However, Naomi focused on the assumed leader in the photo. He was quite clearly the oldest of the group, his hair thinning and almost completely white. In the photo, he stood at the center of the group, and unlike the others he didn't smile at all. Even the serious scientist looking guy had the slightest hint of a smile, but this guy just had a stone cold look on his face. A long scar ran down the side of his face and he looked menacing. From the looks of things, he'd seen a lot of combat. There was no way he hadn't fought before. Not looking like that.

She flicked through their ID photos, and the guy didn't even smile for that. He looked menacing, perhaps stoic...but she didn't know enough about him to make a judgement like that. Naomi tossed the photos down for everyone to see, not wanting to stare at their faces any longer. They scattered slightly, but everyone could still see them clearly. Count examined the group photo, carefully picking it up before he passed it to Tabloid. Naomi was barely paying attention, too busy glancing over the rest of the file.

The squadron's roster was all that was left. The one that drew her attention immediately was the very first name. Gen. Mihaly 'Archange' Shilage. Her eyes flicked up and over to the photo that Jaeger was now looking over, focusing on the older man in the picture. She flicked through the ID photos and came across the same man, checking the back of the photo for any writing or cue of who it was. But even without the name, this guy was the only one old enough to have made general. Unless the other pilots in the squadron had somehow made the rank that young, but they barely looked much older than Count. Hell, one of them had to have been nearer to Tailor's age. They were skilled, though, from what little she'd seen.

"Does the name Shilage sound familiar to anyone? Or Archange?" Naomi asked them, pointing out the name.

"Well, archange is Erusean for archangel," Tailor, who had been silent up until this point, said as he approached them. He furrowed his brow and looked over the names. "But none of the others' TAC names sound Erusean. None of their real names either." He gave a soft chuckle, almost as if he found it amusing. Everyone looked at him questioningly, but he paid them no mind, voicing his thoughts without hesitation. "Heh. That's actually a really cool name. Wonder what he did to get it..."

"Not a clue. Does it really matter?" Fencer asked, looking as though he was getting impatient standing there but he obviously still wanted to be involved. "I mean, the guy has done nothing but cause trouble for us since this war started. The guy chased us from the Hatties Desert all the way to Yinshi Valley, all to make sure that we didn't accomplish whatever we set out to do. Maybe that's how he got it...he's some sort of guardian angel. Hell if I know."

Suddenly, Jaeger seemed to tense up as a look of recognition. "Shilage...Shilage...I recognize that name! It was a small nation that was annexed by Erusea shortly after the reigning family was overthrown. I believe the heir to the title had been in the military for some time when it happened, then there was a bit of a fuss when he'd gone into service for the Erusean Air Force after Shilage became a state in Erusea...had his family not been overthrown."

"Reigning family?" Count echoed, scoffing ever so slightly. "What were they, a monarchy?"

Jaeger paused. "No...no, I believe they were a duchy...yes, that's right. The Grand Duchy of Shilage...I'd have to go back and look it up, but I remember that the story brought about an international interest. Mihaly Shilage was a great pilot, having served in a couple of wars prior to the revolution that brought about his family's fall. I think he became an instructor at the EAF Academy. And that's right! He disappeared from service after the first Continental War." He took a moment to think, everyone looking at him expectantly. "I remember the story, now! There were some similarities, but I never could have guessed...he'd have to be pushing seventy-something at this point...I can't believe I didn't think about it sooner."

"What're you talkin' about?" Húxiān asked, shaking her head. There was a hint of concern, as if she wasn't used to seeing Jaeger act like this.

He looked up at her, looking as though he was trying to think through his words carefully, but he didn't answer. It was Naomi's father that answered first, crossing his arms. "General Shilage is indeed the 'Mr. X' that you've faced time and time again. He's also a legendary ace pilot, and one that's shot down many. I heard stories from pilots that had been unlucky enough to encounter him, though they never engaged. They had to run, and their wingmen tried to hold him off." Her father paused, taking a deep breath before he continued. "He treated them like prey, exhausting them and then moving in for the kill. That's how he got the name of King of the Skies. No one could come close to matching him, and only two people have ever survived a fight against him. And only a select few come close to his skill level."

Naomi swallowed, already knowing who one of those people was. But who were the others? She reached for the photo of Sol Squadron and Jaeger passed it over to her. Without looking up from it, she asked, "And just who are you referring to?"

"Well, one of the people to survive a fight against him was one of his own pupils. A pilot they called 13," her father answered without hesitation. "No one really knows much about him beyond that, just that he was Shilage's star pupil and his only equal for some time. They even fought side by side during a few small dogfights and from what I heard from some Erusean pilots I met during my...travels...they were very close. Almost like father and son."

"And I think we all know who the second pilot to face him was," Wiseman said slowly, and Naomi looked up at him. He had a blank expression, but his eyes showed some sort of understanding. He sighed and leaned forward. "Look, Trigger. We've all got something personal with this guy, but if he shows up, I don't want you to do anything stupid. I only wanted to show you this so you knew exactly who you might be facing. And so the rest of you understand that he didn't get the name King of the Skies for nothing."

Naomi tossed the picture down again and crossed her arms. "With all due respect, Wiseman...King of the Skies or not, if I have the chance I'm not going to let him get away. I don't care what his name is, I'm not going to lose anyone else if I can help it."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Wiseman said, looking down as though he was disappointed in her. But suddenly, he laughed and looked to her, and then to her father who was fighting off a smile of his own. "You were right. Still stubborn." To her surprise, though, he rose to his feet and walked over to where she was standing. Count, Tabloid, and Jaeger stepped aside as he approached them. When he reached her, he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle pat. "If you have no choice, then do whatever you have to. Just make sure you bring your guys back safely."

She blinked, expecting more of a lecture from him but she was almost pleasantly surprised by his reaction. Still, there was one thing wrong with what he said. "I thought you said..."

He interrupted her before she could finish. "I'd say you've earned the right to call Strider your squadron." Naomi grinned when he said this and glanced at Count and Tabloid, and they both gave her matching smiles. Even Jaeger looked a bit proud of her. Wiseman gave her a pointed look, though. "Just don't do anything to make me regret saying that. There's still another battle to get through, and I don't want any of you to lose your cool. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Naomi answered promptly through her smile, hearing the others sound off after her.

"Perfect!" Wiseman said, giving her another pat on the shoulder and setting off for the door. He looked over his shoulder at them, opening the door and stepping aside. "Now c'mon, let's get moving. We've got a war to end!"

The others followed, but Naomi paused and looked back at her father and studied the expression on his face. He and Genette were both smiling, and Naomi knew that she'd see them both at the base later that day. But something about his story...something about what he said sounded like he knew more than he was letting on. After knowing how much they'd hidden from her for her entire life, there was no telling what other secrets there were. And if he was holding back, she wanted to know why. But now wasn't the time, as he quickly reminded her.

Naomi's father nodded to the door with a light laugh. "You heard the man. You've got a war to end, so how about you get going?"

"Right. See you guys later." Naomi turned to follow her wingmates, bidding Long Caster, Major Grimm, Genette, and her father farewell with a quick wave. She could worry about what her father wasn't telling her later. Right now, she needed to focus and mentally prepare herself for what was coming. She didn't know if she'd be meeting Mr. X in the skies again, but Naomi meant what she had said. King of the Skies or not, if he attacked her friends and wingmen, she was going to retaliate.

Whatever happened, whatever it was going to take, she'd finish what he started. Time to see what Erusea was made of.

* * *

Author's Note: _This was originally a much longer chapter, but I had to split it in half. The next one should be out in a few days, but for now I figured I'd post these two since everyone has been so patient and y'all deserve an update._


	39. No Royal Road

Chapter Thirty-Eight: No Royal Road

|...|...|...|

**Tyler Island, Spring Sea.  
September 18th, 2019.  
****1400hrs.**

|...|...|...|

Avril wasn't sure what to think of the air base that Osea had sent them off to. One thing she had immediately noticed on the day of their arrival was that the tension on the island itself was obvious. So much so that just walking around the base was enough to set you on edge. In spite of being formerly used as a prison, it didn't feel like one and the soldiers around base weren't guards nor were they prisoners. They were just regular soldiers, with a few ex-cons that had been pardoned thrown into their regular squadrons. The former prison aspect wasn't what set everyone on edge. It was the whole damned island as a whole.

If not for the war, it was probably a very beautiful place to be. There were tall trees and plenty of natural beauty that had been marred only slightly by the attacks from weeks before, though any wildlife that resided there had probably been chased off long ago. Even in the midst of a cease fire, the air was thick. There was some sort of silent understanding that, at any moment, the base could come under attack. There was a fence around the base, but it was damaged at several places after a couple of constant attacks. Should any Eruseans get cocky, they could easily slip onto base and then anything could happen from there.

That was perhaps the only reason she was grateful of Bandog's presence, along with other soldiers that worked as handlers. Even if they didn't enjoy one another's company, the two of them had sort of gravitated towards one another. Avril was still settling in whereas Bandog had been immediately put to work to refresh his and Sarge's training. When Bandog could, he'd bring Sarge around the hangars to play and unwind, and in the almost two days they had been there, Avril would often watch him and the others work.

Still, they were both making sure that direct interactions with one another were avoided as much as possible. Besides, Avril knew she had to start work sooner or later and both of them needed to focus. Plus, she didn't like him. She wished Tabloid and the others could have come along. It had barely been more than a day and Avril couldn't get Tabloid's stupid expression out of her mind. He looked like someone had punched him in the gut, but then he just...acted normal again. But it was a lie. He wanted her to make her own decision, even if he didn't like it. And he hadn't wanted her to feel guilty.

Avril knew she had to let that go. They'd all be here soon enough, provided things went well. She took a deep breath and relaxed, having been moving stuff around in the main hangar all day so that it was to her liking. She'd already met the remainder of the mechanics, still grieving the loss of the first guy. In spite of this, they seemed ready and willing to work with her and accept her into the group. Maybe it was just because she was a woman, or maybe they'd heard more about her skills than she'd previously thought.

She turned around and limped to the open hangar doors, looking out at the view towards the other end of the island. One thing that everyone had a clear view of, from wherever they were, was the mass driver. Erusea still had control of it, and both sides wanted it. Whichever side had it would also hold the advantage in the war. Osea needed to get it back, and that was probably what added to the tension. The cease fire was all for show. For both sides. At least, if it hadn't been that way before, then it was now.

The sound of footsteps and a dog barking brought her attention away from the mass driver and the coming storm and instead she searched for the source of the noise. There was little surprise that Bandog and Sarge were making their way over, though they hadn't spoken since they got the grand tour of the base. Avril placed her hands on her hips and watched them approach, scowling slightly as Bandog came to a halt a few feet away from her. He gave her an awkward, tense greeting. "Hey."

"Hey," Avril answered in an almost dismissive way. She looked him up and down, noting the somewhat tired look on his face. He was surprisingly subdued, which Avril didn't take as a good sign. "You look like hell."

Bandog took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at where Sarge had laid down to rest. Neither of them had the energy that Avril was used to seeing, and he took a moment before explaining why. "I hate this place. They spent the whole day sending us over some shitty obstacle course and through some tests for Sarge. They don't think either of us are as qualified as they thought," he huffed, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "I feel like they're just looking for someone to give a hard time."

"Oh." Avril felt a bit bad for him, but she made sure that she didn't let it show. "Sounds like a rough first day."

"Yeah, it has been. I just hope they actually let us do some real work, though. That's why I came here in the first place," Bandog said, crossing his arms and scowling. He paused for a moment, then looked to her with a curious expression. "How about you? Are you settling in alright?"

Avril shrugged, glancing over her shoulder before she answered him. "I guess so. I can't really tell what the other mechanics think of me yet, but they haven't really been around. I've just been making sure everything's up to my standards," she answered, then she let out a scoff. "Doesn't matter to me whether they like me or not. I'm not here to be their friend. I'm just holding out until the others get here, that's all. Here's hoping we don't get killed before then...or _they_ don't get killed before then."

Bandog smirked and chuckled ever so slightly. "I think Wiseman can keep them all in check. Besides, I know Tabloid probably isn't flying and he _is_ the one you're worried about, is he not?"

She glared at him, a quick warning that he was overstepping. "I'm worried about all of them, because they're all out of their damn minds," Avril growled at him, and it wasn't a lie. She did care about all of them, even if she didn't show it very well. If Tabloid was flying, which really wasn't as likely, then she didn't want him to do anything stupid while trying to keep up with Trigger and Count. Not that he couldn't do it, it's just that they took too many risks. To avoid stressing herself out, she figured she'd return Bandog's very mild teasing. "Besides, let's not pretend that you haven't been crushing on Húxiān. Pfft. Please, you're like a schoolgirl."

"We've talked more than you might think and I consider her a good friend. Nothing more than that," Bandog answered, not as defensive as she would have expected. "And even if I do care about her, I know she's a capable pilot. I believe in her abilities enough to know she'll make it back."

"Right," Avril said in a slightly disbelieving tone. She wasn't exactly thrilled to be talking with him, and truth be told there was a part of her that wished he'd leave. But if he was there then she might as well talk with him. After all, who else was she going to talk to? There wasn't anyone else on the base that she knew, let alone that wasn't tense and taking everything too seriously. "So, how long do you think we're gonna be stuck here, huh?"

Bandog didn't answer right away, taking in the sights around him and looking off towards the mass driver in the distance. It looked small and unimpressive from here, but there was just a matter of time before everyone was fighting over it again. Bandog seemed to realize it. "We'll be here as long as it takes to get the island under Osean control. As for how long we'll be here on our own, before the LRSSG gets here? Who knows. I overheard from the base commander that the operation to take Farbanti is starting some time tomorrow. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Well, once Trigger and the rest of Strider and Cyclops get ahold of the Erusean forces, they'll be done for," Avril said, feeling suddenly confident. Trigger was a fighting machine, and the same went for the others, as much as Avril hated admitting it. She smirked a bit. "They'll be done in Farbanti in a matter of hours. Then I guess they'll be on their way here, givin' these guys the same treatment. Hopefully we'll be outta here by then. This place is depressing."

"I won't argue with you there. Still, you chose to come," Bandog reminded her coolly, and Avril bit back a sharp retort. He crossed his arms and added in a grumble, "No point in complaining about it, now. Far too late for any of that."

"Yeah, I know," Avril groaned, looking off towards the mass driver, then down the row of hangars. Several Osean fighters were lined up, and a few of the pilots lingered outside, discussing something. She sighed, looking up at the sky. A light breeze was blowing against her face and she closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath before she opened them again. "Still...I can't help but feel worried about what's to come. Like nothing is ever going to go exactly as planned."

"Well, it's up to the guys in the air. You should know that by now," Bandog said, crouching down to pet Sarge. The Dinsmark shepherd opened her eyes briefly and pricked her ears at the sudden touch, but she huffed and quickly settled back down as he scratched behind her ears. "Whatever happens isn't up to us, so much as it is them. Well, not when it comes down to it. We all have our jobs to do, but it's the pilots that pull through more often than not. People like Trigger and Wiseman always winning the wars and getting the glory."

"You sound a bit jealous, Bandog," Avril said, although she couldn't exactly blame him.

He paused, glancing up at her and forcing a laugh. "Yeah, well, maybe I am. Doesn't mean I'm not going to try and do what I can." Bandog gave Sarge one last pat on her side and rose to his feet, giving Avril an almost stern look. "And you should do the same."

Avril gave an indignant snort. "What do you think I've been doing? Just tinkering around? In case you've forgotten, if it hadn't been for me then Spare Squadron's planes would have never made it off the ground."

"Whatever." Bandog shifted his weight slightly, kicking at the concrete underneath him. He grimaced. "Still, I for one intend to celebrate once this war is over. I'm ready to go home already. Let's hope Trigger and the others manage to win Farbanti. From there it'll be easy."

"Yeah...if you say so," Avril said with a frown. She watched him nudge at Sarge's paws with his feet to get her to wake up, pulling out a ball and quickly gaining Sarge's full attention. Without much of a goodbye, he took a few steps forward and began to throw the ball for Sarge to chase. Avril watched the half-hearted game carry on before she turned to head inside the hangar, remembering the laptop she'd gotten at New Arrows and brought with her to stay in touch with the others.

She figured she'd check in with Tabloid while she still could, and see how things were going with the LRSSG. Then maybe she could wish them all luck. If anybody needed it, it was Tabloid and those idiots back at the base. Avril could only hope that, if the operation was starting soon, then it would go well. For all their sakes. Otherwise, there wasn't much they could do besides roll over and accept whatever fate had in store for them. But Avril didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit.

But no matter what she did, she couldn't shake the feeling that things weren't going to go as planned. And she wasn't sure if that was good...or very, very bad.

* * *

**Erusean Air and Space Administration, Erusea.**  
**1500hrs.**

Word of Osea's advance on the capital spread quickly to forces all over Erusean territory, everyone on high alert and waiting for the attack to begin. Unfortunately for Schroeder, this meant that Sol Squadron was going to be deployed to what was likely going to be the biggest battle of the war. Whatever happened at Farbanti would control the way that the rest of the war went, however it also meant that Schroeder might not be able to gather the data he needed. The squadron would be returning from their briefing shortly, and Schroeder wasn't sure what would orders would come out of it.

He was confident that, whatever came with the battle, the suit would hold up. However, if Mihaly were to take a hit in the right place and the right amount of times, Schroeder didn't give Mihaly's plane the same confidence. Hopefully, with the new suit and the extra work that had been put into his plane's repair...Schroeder trusted he'd make it out of this battle, as usual. But still, he wished Mihaly would have flown in a few test fights with the suit first. Then Schroeder could know for certain. But the man continued to be as stubborn as ever, Schroeder's offers over the last couple of days always being promptly refused.

As he paced around the hangar with his hands in his pockets, looking over his computers and Mihaly's plane, he was aware of Ionela watching him coldly. She'd been in a bad mood with just about everyone, refusing to speak with Massa, even. The usually well-mannered girl was now cold and bitter, keeping her responses to anyone short and to the point. She treated her grandfather this way, which he returned without any hesitation. Though, as guarded as Mihaly was, Schroeder could tell that in some ways it hurt him. It looked as though it hurt both of them, but they were too prideful to set aside their different opinions and too stubborn to see the other's perspective.

But, alas, it wasn't any of Schroeder's business and he wasn't about to interfere. A part of him understood both sides, mostly Ionela's, though. Mihaly always seemed to love flying, but beyond that...Schroeder had no idea why this war and that pilot meant so much to him. Ionela was only concerned for her grandfather's safety, something Schroeder could also understand. But he didn't worry for Mihaly the way she did. He would lose a fair bit should Mihaly be too injured, but he knew that Mihaly would happily push himself. Even if Schroeder didn't ask him to. They both did what they had to do to serve Erusea, but at what cost? Mihaly and his granddaughters had everything to lose should Mihaly fail, but Schroeder? He really had nothing to lose.

_Why do I even care this much? Do I care at all?_ Schroeder wondered briefly, stopping his pacing. He sighed as he looked up at Mihaly's plane, removing his glasses briefly to wipe them off. He placed his glasses back on his face, adjusting them ever so slightly on the bridge of his nose with his index finger. Satisfied, he shoved his hands into his pockets once again, resting his legs for a moment. It must have been a half an hour he spent pacing. His eyes scanned his surroundings, pausing briefly on Mihaly's granddaughters.

Ionela still fixed him with a stone cold gaze. He felt a stab of guilt, and not for the first time, but he pretended not to notice her. If he couldn't face a child now, then what was he supposed to do if...or when her grandfather was killed? If something went wrong, could he look her in the eyes and admit that it was his fault? That it was his fault that the only person they had left was dead? No, he wouldn't. He couldn't. Because Mihaly, whatever was coming their way, would survive. He'd win, just as he always did, and when they had the drone data finalized and polished thanks to Mihaly's efforts, the war would end. Hopefully Ionela wouldn't look down on him after that.

Schroeder felt his shoulders fall slightly as his thoughts took on a more practical direction._ Not that I don't deserve it. If that suit fails, Mihaly won't last long in the air. I can only pray that it will hold up, but Georg promised it would. He's never failed me before_.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden announcement over the base's PA system. The slightly garbled voice of the facility's 'commander' simply announced that Sol Squadron was to be sent up in response to Osea's advances, and all other personnel were to remain on high alert. Schroeder's assistants stood nearby to where he was, and both of them turned to look at him with curious eyes. Simon was the first to speak up, a very slightly concerned edge to his voice as he asked, "What does that mean for us?"

The question took Schroeder aback briefly, and he hesitated with his answer. He glanced to Ionela and Alma, noticing that the two sisters were now discussing the announcement themselves. At last he turned back to Simon and Massa, keeping a blank expression. If Osea were to successfully invade Erusea's capital, then the fighting wouldn't take long to reach the facility. On top of that, once they found out the EASA was heading up the drone production, they'd be a prime target. Schroeder couldn't give a definitive answer, but he was already preparing for a worst case scenario. At last, he found the right words.

"I don't know," Schroeder answered honestly. "If push comes to shove, there's a safe place we can go. It's also the best place to finish up our work."

Massa's eyes suddenly lit up and she looked excitedly between Simon and Schroeder. "Oh! Would we get to see the new drones General Parrish ordered? Like, up close, I mean?"

The fact that she had a rough idea of where he was talking about surprised him, but she always had been the more observant. And the better at listening, in Schroeder's opinion. He glanced at Simon questioningly, but his only response was to shrug and make a failed attempt to hide his own excitement at the idea. Schroeder's expression softened and he blew out a breathy chuckle. "Possibly. Though, you'll probably see them whether we have to go there or not."

Mild disappointment visibly set in among the younger scientists, to which Schroeder could only shake his head at. He appreciated their enthusiasm, if only that, but if they were lucky then they could stay right where they were. Unfortunately, they still had to be prepared. Just in case. He realized how bad an idea it really was, though, since to get to the factory they had near the space elevator (which was his idea) he would have to go through what was essentially a war zone. If it were just him, it wouldn't be a problem, but Simon and Massa were basically children. Worse, if anything were to happen to Mihaly, he might have to bring Ionela and Alma along.

_Speaking of Mihaly..._

Schroeder looked to the hangar entrance as he became aware of someone making an approach. They stopped just outside of the hangar, and Schroeder quickly recognized the five figures of the Sol Squadron members standing outside. Mihaly was speaking to them, saying something rather quickly and sternly to them. When he was done, they all gave him a quick salute and the four scattered quickly, shouting some excited words to one another as they raced off towards their planes.

Mihaly, on the other hand, watched them go with a sigh and a shake of his head before he turned inside the hangar and continued on his way. He regarded Ionela and Alma with a cool nod and headed straight for Schroeder. He didn't say anything until he reached the space where Schroeder was standing, and even then he chose not to waste time on any pleasantries. "I'm sure you've heard the situation by now. Once Osea begins attacking the capital, Erusea has plans to send us up to retaliate. That suit of yours...you're confident it'll hold up in a large scale battle?"

He blinked, taking a moment to process everything that had been said before he finally nodded. "Yes, that's the plan. It's far more durable than your others. You shouldn't have any trouble in the air, however, I can't say that for sure without seeing how it holds up in a test fight." Schroeder saw Mihaly suck in a breath and let out a grunt of disapproval. He looked over at Simon and Massa and gestured for them to leave so he and Mihaly could have some privacy. Without further prompting, the two headed over to Alma and Ionela, and Schroeder's eyes flicked to Mihaly once more. "You know as well as I do that, if this suit falls short, your body won't be able to stand much more. And if it fails during testing you know that I'll order you to stay grounded until a new suit comes in. Mihaly, if I don't know for certain then it could kill you."

"If you've done your job right then you should have nothing to worry about. If you're so confident, then why so adamant about the testing?" Mihaly challenged, though he kept his voice cool. The idea was to get under Schroeder's skin, not work himself up. Even a blind man could see that.

Schroeder frowned slightly and brought his hand up to adjust his glasses again, an almost nervous gesture but one that Mihaly didn't pick up on. He made his expression unreadable again and looked Mihaly right in the eyes. "You know, that type of thinking is hardly fair. I have no way of knowing if the suit will last with your flying style, even if the specifications were matched. Anything, and I do mean anything, could go wrong and cause it to stop working," he said quickly, but maintaining a calm composure.

Mihaly wasn't anywhere close to budging, and he swiftly began to change the subject, much to Schroeder's frustration. "I know what I'm doing. And I know what I'm capable of. If you believe the suit will hold up, then I trust that your specifications are correct," Mihaly said, not giving Schroeder a chance to cut in. In fact, he was so dismissive that Schroeder didn't even know what he would have said. Mihaly continued before he had an opportunity to figure it out. "That experimental fighter you showed me a few days ago, it's fully equipped, right?"

"Umm. I suppose so. More or less, anyways," Schroeder said, surprised for a moment and caught of guard by the question. He felt suspicion growing, but figured he'd better tread carefully. "Why do you ask, General?"

"I want you to have it shipped to Shilage. Erusea's king moved a couple of Erusean soldiers to mix in with the Voslagian soldiers stationed there, and I believe we're storing supplies in my family's castle, no?" Mihaly looked at him, almost as if he expected an answer to his question. Schroeder had heard of it, but he didn't care much about what Erusea did if it didn't directly effect him and his work. It honestly didn't seem like Mihaly was bothered by Erusea's actions, though. He continued, shrugging. "Their movements haven't attracted Osean attention, yet. That being said, if anything goes south...Shilage might be one of the safest places to go. I don't want to run the risk of losing the plane in an airstrike. After all, it makes for a fine last resort, given the weaponry it comes along with."

Schroeder shifted on his feet, realizing that Mihaly made an excellent point. It wasn't one he could find a good argument for, either. He nodded slowly, noticing that Mihaly's eyes were bright now that he was talking about the plane. Schroeder finally found the right words to answer him in as cool a way as he could manage. "Alright. I'll get together some people to transport it as soon as I can. It won't be easy, though, especially given the current state of things. There's a high chance that Osean forces might take a shot at destroying it. Or worse...stealing it."

Mihaly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Thinking, perhaps? At last, his eyes opened again and a familiar look of determination spread across his aged features. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"There are a lot of risks you seem willing to take, Mihaly," Schroeder practically grumbled.

"Most men are unwilling to take risks in life," Mihaly said, almost pointedly, as if he was calling Schroeder out on being too cautious. However, he continued before Schroeder could protest. "I've already made it quite clear. I'm going to do whatever it takes, even if I die trying. So long as the skies are clear and blue again, I'd say it's worth it, wouldn't you?" He didn't give Schroeder a chance to answer, turning away and walking towards the exit to the hangar. Over his shoulder, he called, "Now, come on. We have to head out to an Erusean base near the capital, so we're ready at a moment's notice. Show me where that new G-suit of yours is."

"Of course." Schroeder began to follow him, glancing at Simon and Massa and giving them the cue to go and finish preparing Mihaly's plane for takeoff. They did so without hesitation, excusing themselves from the conversation with Mihaly's grandchildren

As they reached the crate that held Mihaly's new G-suit, Mihaly paused and allowed Schroeder to step forward and unpack the suit. Mihaly glanced over his shoulder while Schroeder began unlocking the crate it was shipped in, and in a heavier and softer tone than usual, he said, "And there's one other thing I would like to ask of you, Doctor."

Schroeder felt a sense of dread, already able to figure out what he was going to ask him. He barely looked up from what he was doing as he continued what he was doing. "Yes?"

"If anything happens to me and I'm unable to make it back, promise me that you'll look after my grandchildren? I know it's a difficult thing to ask of you, but it's only until the war is over and they can make it home. They've lost so much already, I couldn't bear for them to be alone." The statement surprised Schroeder so much that he actually felt like someone had thrown ice water in his face. What was more surprising was that this was the closest thing to a positive emotion that Schroeder had seen from him in a long time. He slowly looked up, trying to find any sign that Mihaly wasn't being genuine, but he found none.

"I...I don't...I mean, I'm not..." Schroeder cursed himself for acting so shocked, practically sputtering in disbelief. Mihaly glanced at him curiously and Schroeder tried to compose himself. "I'm sure you'd make it back, General. Besides, I don't think they'd be too pleased with my help."

"I know Ionela can be harsh, but even I am able to understand why. I'm only asking that you bring them home safely when the war is over, back to Shilage," Mihaly said, and his voice was practically emotionless, given the topic. He continued. "Their home means a lot to them, and once I'm gone it's all they'll really have left."

Schroeder bit back a sigh. He wasn't good with kids, and he was barely any good at dealing with adults. Most people got on his nerves and he in turn did the same to them. His assistants and Mihaly were truly the only people he'd ever gotten along well with. Still, he knew that they couldn't just be left on their own. "If that's what you want, Mihaly, then I'll do my best to keep them out of harm's way." Mihaly actually looked grateful, but Schroeder didn't want to stay on the topic long. He cleared his throat and passed the G-suit to Mihaly. "Here. You seem in a hurry to get up in the air. Wouldn't want to keep everyone waiting for very long, would you?"

Without any argument, only mild surprise that Schroeder was actually willingly helping him along, Mihaly put on the new equipment with little difficulty. After a couple of mild adjustments were made and after Schroeder checked to make sure everything was in place, the G-suit was on and Mihaly was ready to go. The G-suit didn't differ much in design from the others Mihaly had worn before it. It was dark gray in coloration, much like Mihaly's flight suit, only it lacked a green tint. There were a couple of hard points, notably over his joints and along his back. They served the purpose of tracking his body's movements and how his joints held up, along with his reflexes.

It wasn't anything new or spectacular. The only difference was its durability, as Schroeder had planned. It was better fitted to Mihaly and based off of his previous sorties, allowing more protection and hopefully more movement. Only a few minutes passed before Mihaly adjusted to the fit and grew comfortable wearing it. He had no complaints and it looked as though he was just as pleased with it as Schroeder was. At least, he looked that way as far as anyone could tell. His answers to Schroeder's questions of it all seemed positive, so he allowed him to continue preparing himself.

After an obviously strained and somewhat bitter goodbye with his granddaughters, Mihaly climbed into the cockpit of his Su-30 and they spent a few minutes (at Schroeder's insistence) testing his reaction time. Ionela and Alma watched almost nervously from where they stood, and Schroeder noticed a brief look of relief on Ionela's face as Simon loudly reported that everything was working as it should. In fact, everything was working better than usual. Mihaly's reaction times were quicker and far smoother in the short simulation they ran.

Once they were done with that and all concerns were more or less covered, Schroeder (albeit reluctantly) gave Mihaly permission to taxi out onto the runway. Schroeder went outside for the fresh air, finally able to enjoy the weather now that summer was gone. It wasn't so bad anymore, and he didn't feel stuffy in his lab coat with a nice fall breeze blowing. The sun was still a nuisance, which would make watching the takeoff a bit of a frustrating task.

The ground crew helped bring the plane out of the hangar, but from there it was all on Mihaly. He was set to take off first, the rest of Sol Squadron standing by for their own turns. Schroeder stood just outside of the hangar entrance, briefly looking back to invite either of his assistants or Mihaly's granddaughters out to watch, but they seemed content with where they were. He walked out to a spot alongside their 'runway' and watched as Mihaly's plane taxied out onto it. He was a safe distance away, but close enough that he didn't have to squint to watch it.

Schroeder knew the exact moment that Mihaly was cleared for takeoff, because Mihaly never wasted any time getting into the air. The engines whirred to life, a faint whining sound coming from them initially, but it slowly grew into a powerful roar. It was a menacing sound, and one that so many people seemed to live for. Mihaly's plane accelerated along the runway soon after that, and once the plane lifted off of the ground and the wheels retracted, it was sharply pulled into a straight climb. The roar from the afterburner sent a chill down Schroeder's spine as he watched Mihaly climb higher into the sky, his wingmen scrambling to get their own planes ready for takeoff.

The fighter was pulled through several sharp maneuvers, and Schroeder even saw Mihaly flawlessly perform his most famous post-stall maneuver. It was one he often did, but one that Schroeder remembered having the hardest toll on his body. He pulled it off. Perfectly. And he didn't hesitate in continuing to fly after that. He didn't slow to regain his composure, instead the fighter was immediately brought through rolls and sharp turns. The plane was fare more agile than Schroeder had ever seen it...no. _Mihaly_ was more agile. His airshow left designs in the otherwise blue sky. White contrails highlighting his every movement. Every turn, every roll, every maneuver.

It was enough to take one's breath away, and sure enough, Schroeder watched in amazement. Obviously the suit held up as Schroeder had intended, but even after watching Mihaly's flying time and time again...there was something different about this time. He never let up on the throttle, and the sound of the jet engine continued to roar across the sky. It was like a lion or a clap of thunder. As though a mighty leader was returning to his kingdom. The realization hit Schroeder like a bolt of lightning, but he kept his shock from appearing on his face.

All of those times that his wingmen had called him by his hated moniker of 'King', his disinterest in anything on the ground, his apathy towards his homeland, and his determination and obsession with Three Strikes. It all made sense to Schroeder, like he'd finally fit all the pieces of a puzzle together. He finally understood, or at least he came as close to understanding as he would. 'King of the Skies' wasn't simply an old story and nickname meant only to scare rookie pilots, and watching him now was like he was staring at Mihaly in his prime. Mihaly's kingdom was the sky, and like any ruler he knew he must defend his title. And his kingdom.

The King of the Skies was off to face his rival, the pilot with the Three Strikes, but Schroeder remembered what Mihaly told him of his challenger's identity. This pilot was the daughter of a famous Belkan ace and flying was in her blood. The Foulke family was infamous in Belka and from everything he'd seen...this Three Strikes had inherited her father's skill and tenacity. They'd find out who was the real ruler of the skies before long, and Schroeder suddenly found himself demanding an answer to that question. No matter what he did, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sky as Sol Squadron took off and followed Mihaly into the dark blue.

Schroeder felt the wind hit his face and he clenched his fist and briefly closed his eyes. _Good luck, Mihaly. I pray for your success...King of the Skies_.

* * *

**Farbanti, Erusea.**  
**2200hrs.**

Everything felt wrong that night. To Rosa, it seemed like the entire city had just stopped breathing. The tension was gone from the air, as the entire city had been evacuated of all civilians. Rosa knew this for a fact. She'd heard Henri report to her father, informing him that the military could confirm everyone had left, and those that hadn't were hiding away in crude or rather old bomb safe shelters. Outside of the palace and around the city, soldiers waited for the Osean soldiers to continue their advance. Osea was practically on their doorstep, and Rosa knew that she and her family would be dragged off to safety before the sun was up.

Rosa sat in the doorway leading out into the garden, Leo taking his time trotting around outside. She stared up at the stars, taking in the sights of the ones she could see. Urban glow was still a present problem, thanks to the many streetlights that were still lit up and shining brightly. But all of the buildings were empty and the lights from them were shut off, giving an almost ghostly feel to the city. There were only traces of the people that once lived there, and if not for Erusea's own military, it would have felt much worse.

Initially she had been opposed to the military presence, but thanks to the soldiers' laughing and enjoying a final night before a long and likely very stressful battle...the night wasn't as dreary as it could have been. Rosa watched the movements of the soldiers positioned outside of her family's home. They had flashlights and lanterns providing some light for them. Some leaned against tanks and trucks, trying to get some sleep in, while their companions kept watch and alerted them when their shifts changed. They were expecting Osea's attack any minute. At least, unlike Osea's initial attacks, they had some warning.

Her eyes flicked down from the sky to watch them as a small group laughed at something, and even Leo looked out at them because of the sudden sound. At least they were still laughing and talking, which meant nothing was wrong. Yet. Rosa sighed, adjusting her seating position so that she was leaning against the doorframe, still looking out at the garden and the darkened city. This was her home, and yet there wasn't anything she could do to defend it. The military could do their best, but Osea had those pilots. That one pilot. And Erusea had Sol Squadron, which they'd have to pray was enough.

She briefly wondered how Ionela was doing. It had been some time since they'd spoken or even texted one another. Rosa had tried to call her, tried to check up on her and ask how things were, but Ionela hadn't responded. It was like she completely shut her out, which was a bit worrying. Had Rosa done something wrong, or was she simply busy with Alma and her grandfather? Obviously she still had normal responsibilities, but Ionela had been Rosa's friend for some time. They always found time for one another.

_Time_. She wanted to scoff, but she'd trained herself long ago not to do such a thing out loud. Even in the midst of all the chaos of the war, time was one thing Rosa always managed to get. All day she'd been stuck in meetings with her father, all sorts of politicians and military officers going over their plans for defense and throwing other strategies back and forth. And Rosa and the king had sat through it all day, as exhausting as it was. Yet, once she'd started to get overwhelmed, her father had excused her, asking that she only attend the last meeting when their guest finally arrived.

Unfortunately, General Parrish was still out and about. For the time being, his pursuit and investigations of General Labarthe had seemed to cease, and Labarthe was comfortable communicating back and forth with his friends in the Erusean government. He hadn't done anything more than drop a few hints as to his possible locations, much to Parrish and his supporters' frustration. Thankfully, General Parrish had other matters to focus on, besides his dislike of Rosa, Labarthe, and the entire country of Osea. He'd set that aside, going back and forth between Farbanti and other places around Erusea. He'd even taken a few back and forth trips to Tyler Island.

He was supposed to have gone to the research facility on Tyler Island to speak with the soldiers stationed there to protect the mass driver, but it had been a few days since he had gone there. Because of this, Rosa couldn't fight off the sneaking suspicion that General Parrish was going to be their late night visitor. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in yet another meeting with him, of all people, but she knew better than to argue. She had finally learned that the best weapon against Parrish was her silence, even if that was exactly what he wanted. It was better that than giving him more ammunition to use against her, however much she hated it.

In the darkness outside, she was able to make out the shape of Leo, and she noticed him straighten up suddenly, looking out towards the far edge of the garden. The sound of tires on gravel told Rosa that the reason for this was a new arrival, be it more troops driving in to add to the palace's military defense or the guest she'd been waiting for all night. Her dog trotted out of sight and she heard him begin barking, not able to make it very far thanks to various flowers. The barking quickly stopped and he lost interest not long after, coming back into sight, leading Rosa to believe that it was only a few more troops being brought in.

Rosa wasn't sure how many more soldiers they needed around the city. Surely their defenses were more than adequate to hold off the Osean forces? Even if the soldiers fighting on the ground weren't enough, their air force was ready at a moment's notice and part of the Erusean fleet was waiting along the coast. They'd even found a way to stick what Rosa assumed were some kind of anti-plane guns or something on top of abandoned buildings in the sunken district of the city. They were protected from all sides...surely they didn't need _more_?

A dark realization set in, causing Rosa to shiver involuntarily. She pulled her arms closer to her body for warmth and bit her lip to keep the sinking feeling at bay. _They do if Three Strikes is planning on joining the attack_.

The more she thought about, the more she realized how much faith she was beginning to lose in her own country's military. After boasting of Erusea's strength for so long, it was almost sad that all of that had just become empty words. Their air force, especially, were no doubt fierce, and very skilled pilots, but Three Strikes had brought their morale down significantly. All their hope lied on General Shilage at this point, his squadron being the only ones with the apparent drive to take out Three Strikes. However, that was a lot of pressure to place on them...and a huge weight on their families.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts, that the sudden thudding of footsteps on the floor behind her made her flinch. Rosa didn't turn right away, wondering briefly if whoever it was had even entered the room, but after a few seconds of silence she became aware of the feeling that someone was watching her. Like a dark cloud was hanging over her head. Rosa tensed and pricked her head up, slowly turning to face the person that had disturbed her quiet time. The second she saw just who it was, she felt a jolt of fear and anger and had a hard time keeping herself from gasping.

Her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the living room and she immediately recognized General Parrish standing just inside the entrance to the room. Rosa hated that she was right about who their visitor would be, and she hoped that she kept her fear and bitterness from showing as she looked him up and down. He looked tired and had visible bags under his eyes, and he wasn't standing as rigid as he normally did. Normally sharp, cold eyes seemed calculating as usual but not nearly as frightening as usual. The only intimidating thing about him, to Rosa's surprise, was the faintest smile on his features. Rosa didn't trust that smile, especially not after their last encounter with one another.

Before Rosa could greet him, Parrish let out a breathy chuckle and spoke first. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, Your _Highness_," he said, but Rosa immediately detected insincerity, noticing that he just barely stressed her title and said it in an almost mocking voice. Rosa narrowed her eyes on him, not interrupting as he continued with no further prompting. "You seemed lost in thought, I didn't want to just announce myself. However, I didn't mean to startle you."

It didn't take a genius to quickly figure out that he was putting on an act. The almost condescending way he was speaking, how his wording sounded almost...robotic, not to mention the smile. Parrish tried to disguise it as nothing more than friendly conversation, but the sharp look returned to his eyes and the smile was barely there any more. He almost gave her a look of silent warning, reminding her of his previous threat. He was only showing her 'kindness' in case anyone was listening in on their conversation.

Rosa kept a blank expression and nodded, figuring that she had no choice but to play along. "Oh. That's alright. You didn't, really," she said, and it was quite clearly a lie. Hopefully a believable one, even if she was a notoriously bad liar. She heard Leo let out a soft growl as he brushed up against her knee, likely having come up the steps when their visitor approached. Rosa didn't turn to look at her dog, keeping her gaze fixed on Parrish. "I have to say, this is a bit of a surprise, General. I figured you'd still be taking care of things over on Tyler Island."

"Yes, well, I needed a change of scenery and your father needed my help," Parrish said casually, almost shrugging. He chuckled again, something that sent another chill down her spine, and he added, "There's also something I need to pick up while I'm in town. Some..._leverage_ that I'll be needing back on the island."

The way he said 'leverage' told Rosa that it wasn't a good thing, but she knew better than to ask at this point. She risked turning her back to Parrish, running her fingers through Leo's fur to stop his growling as she looked up at the sky. "I figured you'd come back to help direct our troops' movements here in the capital," she said with a light shrug. "After all, Osea could attack at any minute, now. We need all the help we can get, given their recent rise in air power."

"Right...I forgot that Three Strikes will probably be at the front of the attack." That seemed to strike Parrish in a nerve, as his tone shifted to a much more forced one than before. It sounded like he was trying to squirm his way out of trouble, but his hatred towards Osea had backed him into a corner. Rosa had backed him into a corner, but unfortunately it was one that he easily got free of. As nonchalant (albeit a bit more bitter sounding) as he was before, he continued. "After all, she's become quite a crutch for the Osean forces. Without her, they wouldn't stand a chance. Erusea isn't overly reliant on our air force. You should know as well as anyone, Princess, that we have a rather well rounded military."

Rosa didn't answer, barely acknowledging what he had said at all. Besides, what was the point? He'd only hold anything that she said against her, or find a way to twist it to mean something that wasn't true. Perhaps her mother had a point, trying to teach her to keep her mouth shut. No matter how hard it was. Right now there was plenty she'd like to say. Plenty she'd like to just _scream_ at the whole world, but she doubted that anyone would listen to her. Or maybe she hadn't completely ruined her chances of ever speaking up, given that so many people still believed what she used to say. But right now? The best option was silence. And she hated it.

General Parrish continued across the room until he stood next to her, looking up at the night sky. Rosa watched him out of the corner of her eye, watching as he put his hands into his pockets and lowered his gaze to the soldiers outside. It felt like minutes passed by before anything was said between the two of them, and Rosa felt that dark cloud much heavier now that he was standing beside her. She was barely able to breathe, scared anything would somehow set him off. Leo's fur remained bristled along his back, and he sat down on the step below Rosa, keeping an almost watchful eye on Parrish.

And then at last, the silence was broken.

"It's a lovely night...but do you know what tomorrow marks the anniversary of, Princess?" Parrish asked her, and she immediately felt his eyes trained on her again. Rosa tensed once again and gave a stiff nod in response. She figured that just about everyone knew what it was the anniversary of, Eruseans especially. No one could ever forget, and Rosa doubted that Parrish did. He scoffed, and continued as though she didn't know. "September 19th. The end of the Continental War. The day that Erusea was humiliated by ISAF, and countless innocent people were killed. I'm betting Osea is hoping to do the exact same thing tomorrow."

Parrish let out a bitter laugh and went on, not giving Rosa a chance to answer. "However, this time it will be Osea that's humiliated. Hmph...that reminds me..." Parrish paused, and Rosa felt him staring at her again, before he asked her, "Did you know that there's a rumor that Mobius One was Osean? A few files, most of which were redacted, hint that he actually immigrated to Usea before joining the military. Some say he might have even been an Erusean citizen before the war broke out, but even then they claim he wasn't born there."

Rosa hesitated. She didn't know much about the military, let alone the enemy's pilots. Outside of a few names in passing and learned during history, as well as besides Three Strikes, she didn't know much about them. It seemed every time some great pilot came along, they disappeared just as fast and without leaving a trace. They barely knew their names, and most files on Mobius One from that time were probably destroyed in various attacks, anyways. So, Rosa hadn't heard any rumors such as that. And she never cared to hear about it, either. At last, she answered him. "Err, no...I can't say that I know anything about that, General."

"Well, there are many rumors and conspiracy theories surrounding the infamous Mobius One. In some, he's a hero, and in others he's a demon...and I personally prefer the latter image, myself," Parrish said, slowly turning his head to look up at the sky again. Rosa felt somewhat happy that he wasn't looking at her anymore. He went on in a bitter tone, one that Rosa was more used to hearing from him. "Of course, Osea still had no direct involvement in the war. Or any that we can prove. But it doesn't change the fact that — if the rumors really are true — Mobius One was a ruthless, prideful killer just like every Osean soldier before him...and it was about time somebody showed them their rightful place in this world."

Even if he knew that she disagreed with him or that she 'sympathized' with Osea, or even outright sided with them rather than her own country, it seemed Parrish was still trying to convince her otherwise. Rosa flinched as he hit his fist on the doorframe for emphasis on his words, and Leo let out a growl of protest at the sudden sound. Rosa looked up at the general, noticing that he was now staring down Leo. For a minute she was worried he'd direct some of his anger onto her dog, but he smirked and turned to look at her. "Of course...I wouldn't expect you of all people to understand that. You know, Princess, I'm really going to enjoy the day that your naivety finally catches up to you. It's not going to be a pleasant moment. For you, anyways.

Rosa wasn't surprised he was still treating her like that, but his words still left her stunned. At least he dropped the act. However, he quickly resumed his facade as somebody else entered the room, and Rosa turned to see who it was. Relief washed over her as she saw Henri standing there, greeting her with a respectful nod and quickly fixing Parrish with a stone cold glare. At least he was still on her side. She wondered if, given the expression on his face, he had heard any of their conversation.

However, Henri gave no indication or hint that he'd heard it, and Rosa guessed it was just his usual level of distaste towards the general that he was showing. He quickly put on a professional appearance and cleared his throat slightly. "General Parrish. I thought that was you that I heard talking, but I couldn't be too sure. The king sent me to fetch yourself and the princess," Henri explained coolly, and Rosa held back a sigh as she remembered that she would have to put up with the general for even longer. Henri continued. "Of course, your meeting could have already started if we had known sooner that you were here."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Parrish said, once again not sounding at all like he was sincerely apologetic. "You see, nobody answered the door when I knocked and it wasn't locked, so I figured you wouldn't mind if I let myself in. And when I saw the princess sitting by herself, I figured I'd see if she was alright. I'm afraid we just got a little carried away in conversation after that."

Henri looked to Rosa, as if silently asking her if this was true, and she could only look between the two, not wanting to say anything. He spoke again, his tone of voice shifting to an almost scolding one, "I'm sure I don't need to remind you that the meeting is a bit urgent, right General? Shall we get going now?"

Parrish nodded and without a word started towards the door that led to the hallway. Henri stepped aside and allowed him to walk past, the two making somewhat tense eye contact as Parrish passed him. Rosa forced herself to stand up and follow, Leo snorting as she accidentally bopped his nose with her knee. It obviously didn't hurt, just annoyed him, and he stood up and shook himself before racing into the palace before her. Rosa took one last look outside, wishing she had more time to think, and then reluctantly shut the door and followed after Parrish.

As the three of them stepped out into the massive hallway, Leo barking and racing over to where one of his rope toys was stashed, Rosa noticed that Henri hung back and walked beside her as they made their way to her father's study. He looked a bit conflicted and concerned, and Rosa wondered what he was thinking about that had him so troubled. It wasn't until they were about halfway down the hall that Henri finally said anything to her, and he spoke in a very quiet voice. It was obvious he didn't want Parrish to overhear what he had to say. "Your Highness, has the general ever spoken to you like that before?"

"What?" Rosa tried to keep her voice quiet, but she was pretty sure that she almost caught the general's attention. She glanced at Henri. "I—I'm not sure what you mean by that."

"I overheard the two of you talking, and his 'mild' little outburst," Henri said carefully, looking almost as though he felt bad for eavesdropping, even unintentionally. "I'm only happy that he took it out on the door and not on you. The man has never really struck me as being very stable, and after hearing those comments he made, I can't help but wonder about and worry for your safety. It is, after all, my job to keep your family safe. And I feel I haven't done a very good job of it, as of late."

She didn't want to answer him, at least not truthfully, but if she let Parrish continue treating her like that? Rosa wasn't sure what would happen. She didn't trust him much anymore, and she was growing tired of being his and her father's pawn in their political games. Rosa's parents trusted Henri more than anyone else, obviously, as he was the head of security around the palace and their personal bodyguard. If he knew and if he risked speaking up, would they listen to him? Would her father even care about his daughter's safety and perhaps even his own, which Parrish was becoming more and more of a threat to, or had Parrish twisted his views and opinions too much?

It took her a solid minute to make a decision, and that was only because she knew that she needed to make one soon or lose her chance. She sighed, looking down at the floor as she quietly replied to his question with, "Yes. For a while now, I think...I feel like I've been manipulated all this time, and I think he knows that."

Henri seemed surprised by her answer, and he checked to see if Parrish was at all aware of what was being said. He wasn't, in fact, it seemed as though he was completely zoned out and focused only on reaching the study, walking several feet ahead of them. It would take quite a bit of straining to hear them, and once Henri was absolutely sure that he could continue, that's just what he did. "So, he's been talking down to you like _that_ more than once? Speaking to the _Princess of Erusea_ as though she's nothing more than a _dog_?"

He paused, checking to make sure that Parrish hadn't heard anything, however he soon realized that they were approaching the king's office. Henri sighed and his tone was much softer. "I've had my concerns for some time, given the way that he acts and how you act around him. Leo doesn't even like him, and that dog likes everyone...I've always heard animals were good judges of character," he said with a dry chuckle, though there was no indication that he found the situation amusing at all. Rosa was too startled by his brief show of anger, even if it wasn't directed at her, to really care if he'd actually found it funny, though. Henri went on. "I promise, Your Highness, things will start looking up soon enough. I'm...I'm very sorry that I didn't ask you about this sooner."

Rosa hesitated. If he had acted upon his suspicions sooner and confronted her or her father or even Parrish, then would that have changed anything? Rosa seemed to go unheard regardless of Parrish's involvement, the wellbeing of their country coming first, which Rosa could understand the reason for. Her mother thought it best that she stay out of the way and in the background, though, while her father only cared what she had to say when it suited him. Well, that was a bit unfair. He had asked her opinion on what to do about that submarine, the _Alicorn_...and he did help Osea in a very subtle, indirect way by finding a way to intercept that shell thing that the Alicorn fired at Osea's capital.

Maybe it was just the influence of their generals, specifically Parrish, that caused her father's seeming indifference towards her and her opinions. She sighed. In the end, she didn't know what speaking up might have changed. She never really cared for it, and she'd only gotten a verbal beating whenever she tried to stand her ground. It would have only caused more problems for her, she decided. As the three of them approached the door, Rosa knew she needed to say something to put Henri's mind at ease. Quietly and very softly, she said to him, "It's not your fault, Henri."

He paused, glancing at her as if he wasn't expecting or didn't think she was right to forgive him. In her eyes, there wasn't anything to forgive him for, though. Henri quickly looked at the ground and nodded softly. "I see. Thank you, Your Highness."

The two of them didn't get to continue their conversation, as they reached the door and Parrish opened it for them, allowing them to step inside first. He gave Rosa and Henri a rather curious look, as though he was well aware of them talking on their way down the hall, but he wasn't quite sure what they were talking about. Or maybe he had a general idea and wasn't happy about it. Either way, Rosa felt tired and scared. And...was she angry? No, not yet. But she had just about reached her limit when it came to Parrish. Why couldn't all of this be over?

_We've been fighting for Erusea and our country's sovereignty all of this time, regardless of what General Parrish says,_ she thought._ I feel we've done enough to defend that. Haven't we?_

Although she wasn't happy about it, her thoughts were interrupted once again as her father looked up from where he was sitting. A smile spread across his face, though it was a tired one and it didn't reach his eyes. The warmth was gone completely from it, something that worried Rosa. It was very much a forced gesture. Nevertheless, he spoke as though it was quite the opposite. "Ah, there you are! I was starting to wonder if Henri had gotten lost," her father said, making an attempt at a half joke. The three of them let out weak laughs at the joke, Rosa's more subdued than Henri and Parrish. He watched as they all entered the room, Henri shutting the door and dutifully standing beside it while Rosa and Parrish took their seats.

"My apologies that it took so long. It's partially my fault. You see, I couldn't help but admire the view along the way," Parrish said as he pulled his seat in, sitting perfectly straight with a very faint smile on his face. "After all, your home is very impressive, Your Majesty. It's a look that never gets old...and at night, when those chandeliers are lit? It's simply stunning."

Parrish's compliments on their home didn't seem genuine to Rosa, even if she partially agreed. But her father seemed to believe the opposite, and gave him a very grateful look before laughing it off. "There are palaces and castles far more impressive than what we have here. Shilage Castle is a prime example of that, and there are some lovely old palaces in Belka," he said with a softer smile than before, some of the warmth he usually had returning. "But, regardless of that, I am grateful for your compliments, François."

There was a silence that fell over the room, although it didn't last for very long. Parrish was the first to speak up, cutting right to business. "Speaking of Shilage and Belka...I was hoping I could bring those up tonight."

"Oh? What is it?" Rosa's father prompted while she stayed quiet, her interest peaking with the mention of Shilage. "I hope it's nothing serious."

"Don't worry. It isn't too serious. Not yet, anyways. Just something that I felt I needed to bring to your attention," Parrish said carefully. Rosa looked up at him, watching and listening with interest while Parrish ignored her, focusing on the king while he spoke. As if Rosa wasn't even there. Not that she expected him to treat her any differently. He continued. "For one, General Shilage has his new flight suit. Dr. Schroeder informed me that the general's performance has significantly improved, and the experimental squadron has been moved and placed on standby in anticipation for the attack tomorrow. I have no doubts that we'll be able to defend our capital this time...perhaps it will be thanks to them. Three Strikes — should she show up — won't stand a chance."

Rosa noticed that Parrish's eyes flicked to her as he said this, as if he knew of her concerns for her friend's grandfather combined with whatever attachment he believed she had to Three Strikes. She still wasn't sure how she felt about the latter, but she didn't want anybody she knew getting hurt. The same could not be said for Parrish, who didn't seem to care who or what got destroyed in this war, so long as Osea lost. However, he was careful to hide this, and when Rosa broke eye contact nervously, Parrish looked back at the king before he could pick up on the obvious tension in the room.

Her father glanced between the two of them, and for a moment Rosa thought he'd started catching on, but he suddenly gave a tired smile. The smile was a clear indication that he most definitely had not. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat before he spoke again. "Well, that's good to know. Perhaps we'll stand a better chance than I previously thought. I know for a fact that General Shilage and his men won't let us down."

"Oh, definitely not," Parrish said, although the flicker of doubt and annoyance in his eyes told Rosa that he didn't have the same faith in the general. That didn't really come as a surprise to her, though. He continued flawlessly without giving what were likely his true feelings away. "After all, our air force's pilots are far more disciplined and superior to Osean pilots. I know that all of our brave pilots will do what it takes to win, even if it means that they die trying. Such loyalty is what we admire, is it not?"

The passive-aggressive comment made Rosa tense up, pulling her hands off the table and into her lap where she clenched them into tight fists. She sat straight as a board and stared across the table at Parrish with a neutral expression, though it was taking every ounce of self-restraint and proper manners that she had learned to not slam her fist onto the table in front of her. His jabs towards her, his constantly finding fault in her beliefs and the things she said and did, and every single swift glare he gave her when her father wasn't looking told her that she wasn't mistaken. The comment was directed at her, without a doubt. But she stayed composed. She was close to reaching her limit, but he hadn't pushed her over the edge yet. And she wasn't going to give this bitter old general the satisfaction, either.

It seemed that her reaction caught her father's attention, and Henri reacted as well. The king looked to her first, almost giving _her_ a look of warning. She kept her head straight ahead, facing the general, but noticed her father staring at her. And out of the corner of her eye, she saw Henri take a step back and shake his head. _Of course_, she thought, reluctantly letting herself relax. _He's fishing for a reaction at this point. He wants you to make the first direct move...and it's not going to happen_.

Slowly her father turned his stern look away from her and his expression softened the tiniest bit when he spoke to the general again. "You're absolutely right, François. We shouldn't risk getting ahead of ourselves, though. General Shilage has never failed before, but there's always a first time for everything. I only hope that the Belkan design to his flight suit and the upgrades to his plane hold up. Lord knows, the damn things were expensive. The extra funding that the military had to give to the EASA was enough to last them for the next decade!"

"And that would bring me to my next problem, Your Majesty," Parrish said with a sigh. He grunted as he adjusted himself for more comfort, crossing one leg over the other with one arm on the table, his chair now facing the king at an angle. "I'm afraid that our lead scientists are starting to give us some difficulties. Even outright refusing direct orders from their superiors in the military. The Ravens are coming along at a slower rate than we'd like thanks to them."

"It's not Dr. Schroeder, is it?" her father asked.

"No, but he is one of Gründer's best. Or so we were told," Parrish said in an almost scathing voice. He seemed just as spiteful towards this scientist as he did to Rosa. "Dr. Georg Fitzgerald was one of the more promising scientists they sent us, next to Schroeder. I believe the two were good friends, actually. In fact, up until recently, Georg has been an absolutely brilliant addition to our team stationed at the Mass Driver. It was his idea to develop the unmanned fighters, with some input and assistance from Schroeder, and he developed their ability to fake the IFF signals and trick Osean forces."

"I sense a 'but' coming," her father replied, obviously urging him to get to the point.

"But...lately he's been refusing to work at the pace we ask of him. He's been stubborn and confrontational," Parrish explained, though to Rosa it sounded as though he was describing himself. "I gave a clear deadline for some work I needed done ASAP and when the time came it wasn't met. I asked him why and he began to argue with me. He told me that 'the work will be done when I get it done, and not any time before' and has been pushing back harder ever since. He even told me that my order to send out more unmanned fighters was unnecessary."

"Hmmm...a concerning matter, but hardly one that I know how to fix," Rosa's father said with a sigh. He paused a moment to think over what had been said before he said anything else. "Do you have any idea what prompted his sudden behavior?"

"Not a clue. He was a very quiet, by the book, easygoing gentleman up until this point," Parrish said. Something seemed to occur to him suddenly, as an afterthought. "Actually, I may have some idea. After he heard news that we were likely going to call off the cease fire on Tyler Island, he put up a bit of a fight and looked a bit upset by it. I think he might be developing a soft spot towards Osea. Wouldn't be the first time something like that has happened."

"Didn't he reside on the island prior to the war?" her father asked, and Parrish gave a reluctant nod in reply. "Well, not to discredit you, François, but it's entirely possible that he's simply tired of his home being a war zone."

"Aren't we all?" Parrish asked with a rather forced sigh of defeat. A short pause and he was back to normal. "Still, I highly doubt that that's what this is. It just doesn't add up."

It was Rosa that spoke up this time, unable to keep quiet for any longer. She was sure to keep her voice steady and with little challenge to her words as she tilted her head slightly in an attempt to seem innocent and non-confrontational. "Really? What makes you think that, General? It doesn't seem fair to accuse someone of disloyalty with little evidence other than the fact that they seem fed up with all the fighting."

To her surprise, he actually gave her a light chuckle, and it wasn't forced. "You make an...interesting point, Your Highness. However, I've seen too much in my time to discount it entirely."

"But you admit that you could be wrong?" Rosa asked him, still keeping her cool as best as she could. "Again, it would be unfair to condemn a man based on nothing more than a simple hunch. Especially when he's been nothing but loyal prior to now. Forgive me if I sound rude, General, but I find your conclusion a bit too hasty."

Parrish seemed a bit uncomfortable by now, but he tried to play it off as though he wasn't at all bothered by what she was saying. "I understand your concerns, Your Highness. But in cases like these, it's better to be safe than sorry. Even if he works for Gründer Industries and isn't involved in the fighting directly, he is still a part of our military and I can't place anybody above suspicion. To do so would risk sabotage — invite it, actually — and I am not about to endanger soldiers that are without doubt loyal to our country."

Rosa opened her mouth to interject, but her father cut her off before she could even say anything. "Er, Rosa...I have to agree with François on this one. If it has the best interest of our men at heart, then I have to side with it," he said to her apologetically, although Rosa didn't feel too comforted by it. She didn't argue, simply nodding and allowing them to go back to their discussion. "I do agree that it would be unfair to condemn the man on so little."

"We do still need his help and he is still willing to offer it. I think he just needs a little convincing," Parrish said with an almost...understanding look on his face now. He chuckled again, but in the way he always did that made Rosa uneasy. "Like I mentioned earlier, part of the reason I came back was for that very reason. I believe that with the right resources I might be able to persuade him to be a tad more reasonable. If not that, then at least more cooperative than he has been. Trust me, if this doesn't work then nothing else will."

"That's a lot of trust I have to place in your judgement," her father said, using a slightly sterner tone than usual. "Do whatever it is that you have to, just make sure that the unmanned fighters and the rest of the drones are ready soon. We've taken too many casualties in the air and on the ground, and if we don't get those drones soon...well, I fear that the numbers are going to continue to climb. If I can prevent that, I'm going to do everything in my power to do so."

Parrish nodded in agreement, but he didn't say anything. Rosa suspected it was because he didn't have the same goals as her father, and to say anything more on the subject would give away whatever his own agenda was. She couldn't help but wonder just why he focused so much on old wounds to drive him when there were better things to work for in life. He feigned a love for his country, his desire for the drones to defeat Osea coincidentally — actually, conveniently — happening to line up with her family's desire to end the war with as few casualties as possible. General Labarthe and his conservatives wanted the same, but it seemed that Labarthe saw through Parrish's facade long before Rosa did.

He had tried to tell her what he saw, too, in his own indirect way. But she didn't know either general as well as she should have, and she was paying the price for it now. Labarthe was stationed elsewhere, possibly even in hiding with a few of his own men, while battles raged elsewhere. And General Parrish was safe and sound, the King's right hand man, just waiting for the right moment to strike. Rosa wished she could have found the words and the bravery to tell her father what she knew, what Labarthe knew and what Henri knew...but she didn't see the point. Parrish had her father wrapped around his finger.

There wasn't much she was able to do, and with the upcoming attack there wasn't much she could do. All she had to do was sit in silence and wait for everything to blow over, and once the battle was finished and Parrish was taking care of whatever business he had with the Belkan scientist, Georg, then Rosa would speak up. Until then, she had to take whatever insults and attempt at manipulation that Parrish had left. She hoped that he would give up on that, though. In fact, the more she thought, the more it seemed to her he already had. Rosa couldn't help but feel a little more confident. She'd defeated him on one front, now she just had to take care of the rest.

But thanks to Parrish, her father spoke as though she wasn't even in the room. But without him around, things were at least somewhat different. Rosa just had to be careful and keep quiet, though it wasn't working as well as she would have liked. Parrish wasn't the only one biding his time and making subtle moves. She had some tricks up her sleeve, too, she just had to figure out how to use them. Her parents raised a young woman, not a puppetmaster. It was going to be difficult, especially with her father wrapped around Parrish's finger, but when had things been easy since this war began?

Once again, her deeper thoughts were abruptly ended by someone, this time her father. The king said her name to get her attention and she promptly turned to him. The look on his face was amused for a moment, but it quickly faded and he cleared his throat and said, "You need to pay closer attention. You looked a million miles away."

"I'm sorry, Father. I guess I've got a lot on my mind," Rosa said, shifting in her seat and sending a cold look Parrish's way. She didn't exactly want to be here, even more so than usual given that no one but Henri cared what she had to say.

"I see. Well, you'll be able to relax soon enough," he said, gathering up some papers still left on the table. Rosa looked at him, waiting for him to continue and confused as to what he meant by that. He wasn't even looking at her as he casually continued. "I'm sending you and your mother out of the city first thing in the morning, along with some guards. The transport is scheduled to leave around five or six in the morning, so I suggest you pack your things tonight and be prepared to leave."

Rosa's eyes widened and she gave him a look of disbelief. "What?!"

He looked up at her, clearly surprised by her reaction, and paused what he was doing. "You're going to be evacuating the city first thing in the morning," he repeated, grunting as he stood up from his seat and began to walk towards his desk. He spoke over his shoulder as he did. "You didn't think that you and your mother were going to be staying in harm's way, did you? You're heading south, towards one of those island airbases. There are a handful of small towns you and your mother can stay at and enjoy the sights. It'll be like a vacation."

"'_Vacation'?!_" That last part of what her father had said set her off. Rosa shoved her chair back and sprang to her feet, taking a few strides as she — for what felt like the first time in her life — raised her voice. "You expect me to abandon my home and our country to march off on some '_vacation'_?! While the people that live in this city are displaced from their homes and sent off to camps to spend the remainder of the war? I'm expected to forget about them?"

The king responded to her anger with his own, turning around suddenly and raising his voice louder than hers. "You are _expected_ to keep quiet and do as you're told! You are my daughter, the Princess of Erusea, and the heir to the throne! What do you think will happen to our country and government if the entire royal family falls? Is that what you want? For our country to not only lose a war, but to be thrown into chaos while they scramble for solutions? To face the loss of a war, their homes, and their leaders?!"

"I want our country to know that their future queen didn't abandon them while their lives were on the line!" Rosa said, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. There was a weird and yet small rush of adrenaline. She felt sick and she wanted that sick feeling to go away, but she was too angry to stop now. "A leader puts what's best for those that follow them before their own needs! A leader doesn't run when things get too scary!"

"You are a child! You have no idea what a leader does or even what's best for our country, and it's about time you stopped acting like you do!" her father yelled at her, and Rosa bit her lip as she felt her eyes beginning to water. Again, reduced to nothing more than a child, as if that would have somehow made her point any less valid. He continued without a second thought. "I'm Erusea's leader and I'm not running! I'm staying here and facing whatever comes our way! But I'm not going to put my family's lives on the line just to make some goddamn statement that doesn't mean a thing if we're all dead!"

"At least they'd never say that we died as cowards," Rosa spat at him, her fists clenched at her sides. Her father simply stared back at her with a cold and yet fiery look she wasn't used to seeing from him. This wasn't the man that raised her.

A new voice joined the conversation, and Rosa quickly fixed him with a steely gaze, knowing that this was the only person that truly deserved her anger. Not that it changed much now. Parrish looked as if he found the fight and her anger rather entertaining, but he quickly feigned some sort of parental sternness as he spoke, "It appears to me that you've stepped out of place, Your Highness."

Rosa held back a scoff, turning to face Parrish. "My 'place' is standing my ground alongside my people."

"I think that you severely misunderstand where your place truly lies, then," Parrish said coldly with a look of warning on his face. "And it would do you a great deal of good to stay in it and not overestimate your importance."

Rosa would have replied had it not been for her father slamming his fist onto his desk and keeping her from doing so. "That's enough! You both ought to stay in your places," he shouted at them, and everyone went silent while he looked between the two of them. He let out a sigh and pressed a hand to his forehead, leaning against his desk and lowering his voice. "I've had just about enough of this...Rosa Cossette, get out of my sight. _Now_. Go and pack. You have an early trip in the morning."

"Wha—" Rosa started with a sputter.

His hand shot up and he sent her a cold look. "I don't want to hear anything else about it. I don't give a damn what your opinions are on it, I am your father and your King and my orders are law. Now _get out_."

Already exhausted from yelling, Rosa didn't have much left to put up a fight. Without a word she turned away from her father and to the door, where Henri stood with a blank expression, probably unsure of what to feel about what he witnessed. Holding back a defeated sigh, Rosa began to walk towards the door and Henri stepped aside to allow her to exit. As she opened the door, she heard Parrish bid her farewell. "Good luck, Your Highness. Safe travels."

She ignored him and marched into the hallway and slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing throughout the hall. No one was around to hear it except for Leo, and he jumped as he heard it. Rosa sat down on a bench in the hall and leaned forward, burying her face in her hands as she tried to calm down and keep from crying or screaming. And she really wanted to do both. She flinched as she felt Leo's nose suddenly on her knee and then her arm, sniffing at her with concern.

Rosa sniffled slightly and let out a sigh at last, looking up at Leo as he rested his head on her knee and sat down. She managed a small chuckle at her dog's affection and lightly began to stroke his head and neck while she worked through her own feelings and what she had just done. She hated yelling, and she never did it. Everyone knew her as the soft spoken, gentle young princess. Now she felt like a monster and her throat burned from it.

No one could say she wasn't paying the price for it or that she didn't regret it. The latter would have been partially true, though. She didn't entirely regret it. She meant what she had said during the yelling, but it wasn't everything she wanted to say. It wasn't even half of what she _needed_ to say. That was what she regretted more than the yelling. But the anger was still there. After being pent up for so long, why wasn't it going away now? Why did she still feel angry? Rosa gritted her teeth and fought off tears. She didn't want to cry. She wasn't sad, she was furious. She wanted to fight, but she didn't have the courage or the strength.

When the door opened and she heard the sound of it shutting echo once again, Rosa flinched. She was expecting her father or Parrish as whoever it was approached her almost silently, but she was relieved to hear the voice of Henri. "Your Highness?"

"Oh, Henri. It's you," she said quietly, relaxing slightly. Rosa straightened up as Leo lifted his head from her knee, and she looked at Henri apologetically. "I'm sorry I blew up like that. You looked a little surprised...are you okay?"

"I appreciate the concern, but believe me, I'll be more than okay. Especially once all of this blows over," Henri said with an extremely tired smile on his face. His eyes betrayed his concern and he carefully spoke again. "But are _you_ going to be okay?"

Rosa hesitated before she answered, taking a deep breath. She didn't know. Right now she definitely wasn't, and she knew she'd feel guilty being safe and comfortable while everyone here fought and gambled with their lives. And that was hard enough on them as it was, but she was supposed to just leave without a fight? That wasn't what she wanted to do. All of her years learning history and watching her father and their military taught them one thing. Eruseans don't go down easy. If she could just live up to that, things might be alright. But she proved she wasn't a fighter, no matter how hard she tried.

At last, she answered his question, rising to her feet. "I'll be fine, really. Like you said, you know...once this all blows over."

"Are you sure?" Henri asked her, not seeming to buy her answer. Why did he have to be so observant all the time? He was a bodyguard, not a therapist.

"Positive. I guess I just need some time to clear my head," Rosa said, not too convinced of what she was saying herself. She felt a headache coming on and she wanted nothing more than to be alone right now. "I probably should get some rest. I'm not feeling too great right now."

Henri still wasn't convinced (not that he ever was), but he didn't press the matter. "Right...of course. Goodnight, Your Highness."

"Goodnight, Henri." With that, Rosa turned towards the stairs and slowly began her walk to her room, Leo following close behind. Not another word was said, and the same silence that fell over the rest of Farbanti fell over the palace. Cold and desolate. But they all knew that they should enjoy whatever silence they could get, however eery it was, as it was still a better alternative to the sounds of gunfire and explosions. There wasn't peace now, not by any means, but it was as close as they were going to get to it.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _Once again, I am sorry for going AWOL for a month once again. I thought that I would have had this one out faster, but writer's block hit me really hard about halfway through that last scene and my inspiration was kind of beat out of me, since I didn't know where to go with the rest of it and all of my ideas are still for everything past this chapter. This is the _very_ last chapter left until Farbanti (finally), and from there I have a lot planned. I just had to work through this one to help finish setting things up._

_I'm hoping that the Farbanti chapter will come along smoother than this one, as I love the mission and __I'm really overdue for writing some action again. I'll be back with another update soon, but for now I'm off to do some dialogue fishing and try to take it easy for a short while.  
Hope y'all are doing alright and staying safe and healthy!_


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